


새로운 시작

by thominwtt



Series: ஒன்றாய் [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: (like Thomas doesn't even realize that they're together lol), Alby/Minho/Newt is very background, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Threesome, Slow Burn, Threesome - M/M/M, Violence, but it's still there so i wanted to tag it just in case, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thominwtt/pseuds/thominwtt
Summary: “You’re new, Greenie. People don’t know what you’re capable of.”When Thomas enters the Glade, the only things he brings with him is the clothes on his back and a head full of forgotten memories. If only that was the worst of his problems.-A thominewt rewrite of The Maze Runner





	1. бзиала шәаабеит

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this story since tdc came out in January, so this has been a long time coming for me.
> 
> the story still isn't finished (I'm about 3/4 through), and i am planning to rewrite the whole series eventually, so updates will be once every two weeks for now until I can get my shit together and finish writing everything.
> 
> this is a thomimewt story, but this first fic doesn't have a lot of thominewt. it had to be like that so i was able to develop the relationship/story like i wanted to. i hope people don't mind too much, but don't worry! you'll still get to have pining!Thomas and casual-not-casual touching and maybe even a surprise kiss or two, who knows! ;)
> 
> (also all the fics/chapters are in different languages. if you speak that language and i've butchered the chapter title, please let me know so i can correct it. i've tried my best to translate, but english is my first language so i have probably messed up somewhere. thanks :)

The first thing Thomas feels when the doors above him open is aching fear. A fear that claws inside his chest, a fear that rips at his throat until he feels like he can’t breathe. He doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t recognize the faces looking at him, doesn’t remember anything.

He stays down in his metal cage for a while, ignoring the pleas from voices above him.

They finally are able to drag his useless body up from its position curled on the floor, though he puts up a fight. The faces he sees aren’t friendly, and the expressions he gets from the unfamiliar boys makes his stomach turn.

These boys call him Greenie, and tell him that he’s new here, and that they’ll explain everything once he’s settled in. They say this place that they’re in is the Glade, and tell him it’s normal if he doesn’t remember much. Thomas’ fear settles, just fractionally.

Yet they, every single boy Thomas sees, all look wary, like Thomas isn’t something to be welcomed. Some stare, others won’t even look Thomas in the eye, and he can’t help but think, even in a group filled with dirty teenage boys who have no memories of anything before their lives here, he’s still the odd one out.

So, Thomas asks questions, rarely getting a response. The looks of caution slowly slip off the boys’ faces, replaced with annoyance and irritation, but Thomas thinks he can deal with that better than the former.

He quickly gets pulled away and meets another person, someone he hadn’t seen in the crowd of boys who had been there when Thomas first showed up.

This other boy, who looks more like a man than any of the others Thomas has seen so far, tells him his name is Alby, and asks him if he remembers anything. Thomas shakes his head, liking the fact that the one thing he remembers, his own name, is something he gets to keep to himself. He thinks he can handle the name Greenie, if only for a little while.

Alby also explains the rules and the jobs in the Glade, and, even though Thomas’ brain feels fried from all of the new information, he still asks what is outside the walls that surrounds them. Alby huffs a laugh, and the sound is so surprising that Thomas whips his head around to look at him, realizing suddenly that he hasn’t really gotten the chance to fully look at him yet.

The man is short, not that Thomas can say he’s any better in that department, but even Thomas himself stands a few inches taller than Alby. Despite the fact, the man has a bulky build, with wide shoulders and muscular arms that are fully displayed under his long-sleeve white shirt. His skin is a deep black colour, with bronze undertones highlighting the higher points of his face.

The skin around Alby’s thin eyes crinkles with laughter, and Thomas can’t help but smile back, the rest of the lingering fear dissipating into the warm air of the Glade. Thomas doesn’t notice that Alby never truly answers his question.

 

-

 

Later the same day, they have dinner around a bonfire, and the party seems to be in full swing as Thomas arrives.

He had spent the day to himself, mostly, and used the free time to meet as many people as he could (and ask them as many questions as he thought they would answer). As Thomas had expected, the boys didn’t have much to say. Thomas thinks it could be purposeful, this hiding of information, but he can’t for the life of him figure out why they tell him some things, but avoid other topics like a disease.

There’s another thing that’s troubling Thomas as well, and it’s the reason why he sits alone, away from the rest of the boys while the party goes on behind him: everyone feels uncomfortable around him. And though Thomas thinks he may have, in whatever past life he had, had a flare for the dramatics, this feels different. It didn’t matter how many people he met, they all either avoided his eyes or sneered at him, like he had already done something wrong.

Granted, the sneering had only come from a couple of the guys, and usually after Thomas had asked one too many questions, but the obvious discomfort everyone seemed to feel around him made Thomas feel on edge. Even Alby, who seemed friendly enough when Thomas had made him laugh, had turned stony-face and impassive when the moment had ended and Thomas had asked why everyone was looking at him oddly.

_“You’re new, Greenie. People don’t know what you’re capable of.”_

Unfortunately for Thomas, the only thing he seemed capable of was the inability to make friends. He frowns when a cheer sings out from the group behind him, and he wonders how quickly people would start to slither away if he decided he wanted to join in on the fun as well.

A hand grasps his shoulder, just as Thomas is considering sneaking off and ditching the party, and it makes him jump. He whirls around, eyes settling on a boy, probably no older than himself, grinning carelessly at Thomas as he grips his shoulder. The boy’s features are hard to make out with only the dim light from the fire behind them illuminating his features, but Thomas notices his dark hair, and large, toothy smile.

“Greenie!” The guy yells, and Thomas frowns in confusion. This boy isn’t one of the people he’s met yet, but he seems to be oddly comfortable talking to him. He glances away from the boy’s face, whose sudden appearance so close to Thomas has him blushing. “This is your party! Why are you over here moping by yourself?”

Just past the boy’s dark hair, Thomas can see another guy standing a few feet away, and notices him rolling his eyes good-naturedly at his friend.

The other boy steps forward, grabbing the dark-haired boy’s arm and pulling him away from Thomas. He turns back to Thomas, grinning. “Apologies, the drink’as gone to his head a bit.” He gestures to his friend, who frowns and shoves the boy weakly, swaying a bit on his feet.

Thomas looks at the two of them, noting the glance they share, and wonders how long the boys had known each other, if they could talk so quickly like that without saying a word.

The drunker of the two boys eventually rolls his eyes, wiggling a hand around distractedly. “While you’re being grumpy,” he says, shooting a rather meaningful look at the other boy, who is holding back a smile. The dark haired boy gestures to Thomas, says, “I’m going to go get this Greenie a drink,” and wanders away, swaying slightly.

The second boy turns to watch him go, suddenly moving into the flickering light, and Thomas finally notices the glinting of his blonde hair. The boy is skinny, if the way his shirt and pants almost hang off of his body tell Thomas anything. The blonde spins around to face Thomas, and his features are covered once again by the shadowy light.

“He’s not usually like that,” the stranger explains, lopsided grin still prominent, motioning towards the path that the dark-haired boy had taken to go back towards the fire, “but today was worth celebrating a bit.”

 _Celebrating what?_ Thomas thinks, frowning.

“Sometimes I forget when people are new here,” the blonde says hastily, obviously noticing Thomas’ confusion and trying to change the subject. “M’name’s Newt. The tipsy one over there is Minho.” He points a thumb somewhere behind him, then reaches out the same hand to shake Thomas’ hand.

“Thomas,” he answers automatically, only noticing his mistake when the blonde’s, _Newt’s_ , hand freezes in midair, and the atmosphere turns cold. Thomas curses himself when he realizes he’s shared the one secret he wants to keep to himself to a random guy who will probably go tell the rest of the boys as soon as he can. Wincing, Thomas readies himself for the onslaught of questions ( _when did you remember, why didn’t you tell us before_ ), or the blonde completely abandoning the conversation to instead report back to the other boys on the new information he had learned.

Instead, Thomas can hear Newt gulp a shaky breath in, and the boy takes another step closer to Thomas, arm still outstretched. Thomas takes the offered hand carefully, cautious, because he can’t see the expression on this stranger’s face. Newt’s hand is warm.

“So, the Greenie does remember his name? It’s alright,” Newt says, reacting to Thomas’ startled expression. His laugh that comes after the words is strained. “I won’t tell anyone.” And despite the change in the blonde’s tone, he still sounds genuine when he says it, and even takes a seat next to Thomas on the ground. The movement startles Thomas, but he calms when Newt sends him a small, though shaky, smile.

Now that the boy has decided to sit beside him, Thomas can see his features more prominently in the flickering light. His skin is pale, though the glow of the fire skews the colour to a yellow-gold, so Thomas can’t really be sure. His nose is wide and his cheeks are full and round, making him look younger than he probably is. Looking down, Thomas notices the t-shirt and pants the blonde wears; both partly covered in dried dirt.

“What you lookin’ at, Tommy?” Newt breaks the silence that had settled over them while Thomas studied the other boy. Thomas raises his eyes sheepishly.

“Just…” he starts, “you’re the first person today who hasn’t looked at me like they want to run away.”

Newt grimaces, lowering his gaze to the ground.

“Yeah, the Gladers can be…” he searches for the word, “wary, at times, when different things start to happen.”

“Different?” Thomas can’t help but notice the boy’s slip-up, and it seems that Newt notices as well, and he frowns hard. “Alby said that a new guy shows up in the Glade once a month. That’s exactly what happened to me, isn’t it?”

“We shouldn’t be talkin’ about this now, when there’s a nice big party thrown in your honour behind us,” Newt deflects, shrugging off the question. He has such a practiced ease with it that Thomas could almost believe he was just being friendly. “You should come celebrate, and I’ll try’an find my friend who’s probably already pissed out of his mind.” The evasive blonde boy stands, turning to follow his friend’s path back up to the bonfire.

Tired and frustrated by the lack of information and answers, Thomas rolls his eyes and asks bluntly, “Newt? What about me is different than the rest of them?”

Newt freezes in his place for a split second, before stating, “you ask too many questions, Tommy. We’ll figure it out soon enough.” Thomas doesn’t miss the shake in his voice, but Newt is already gone before he can react.

 

-

 

A boy, probably one of the youngest Thomas has seen in the Glade, follows him when he finally decides to ditch the bonfire party, shortly after his conversation with Newt.

Thomas doesn’t acknowledge the boy until he’s settled in the hammock Alby had given him earlier in the day, trying to appear relaxed as he wonders what the kid wants with him.

“You follow people often?” Thomas asks, watching with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity as a short, chubby boy emerges from behind a tree near Thomas’ hammock.

“Hi,” he says, running a hand through his dark, curly hair sheepishly. “I’m Chuck. I saw you run off.”

Thomas thinks of snapping back at the kid, his general anger at the few people he's met since he arrived in the Glade building up in his chest. But instead he looks at the new boy, and realizes that he probably followed Thomas to make sure he was okay, and his frustration dies down. He admits, “Yeah. Everyone keeps looking at me, like I’m some sort of rabid dog. I thought maybe coming over here might make them feel a bit more comfortable.”

Chuck looks surprised at the words, and tries to explain by saying, “They’re just worried right now. It’ll get better in a few days,” but the words do nothing to calm Thomas’ nervousness or annoyance.

So, instead of continuing on the subject, Thomas asks, “you guys have these sort of parties every time someone new shows up?” He gestures behind him, past the trees to the middle of the Glade, where the bonfire stands.

Chuck nods, coming out farther from his hiding place behind the tree. He walks towards Thomas, and climbs in to one of the hammocks beside him. “They were going to have one for me, but that was a while ago, before Ben was stung and everything went to klunk. Never got around to actually doing it.”

“Stung?”

“Oh, um, I...” Chuck stutters, turning his face away from Thomas’ line of sight.

Thomas groans. “Let me guess; you're not allowed to tell me.”

“Supposed to wait for tomorrow.” Chuck sounds guilty, his voice muffled from, what Thomas can only guess, is the blanket bunched around the boy’s face.

“Great.”

“We all had to wait for a little while,” Chuck tries, “it’s not all that bad.” He waits a beat and lets out a long yawn, and Thomas smiles a little despite himself.

“Good night, Chuck,” Thomas says, rolling over in the hammock and trying to ignore the happy cheers coming from behind him.

“Good night…” Chuck trails off, and Thomas lets the silence linger for a second, before he decides if he's going to trust the nice boy laying in the hammock beside his own.

“Thomas.” He waits for Chuck’s response.

“What?” The boy says, sounding groggy and half-asleep.

“My name is Thomas.” He's not sure if his new friend has heard him, but Thomas says it aloud anyways, just to feel the words rolling off of his tongue.


	2. Qe çiyê vırya?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas’ mind starts spinning with the new information. _It can’t have anything to do with me,_ he reasons with himself. But then another thought makes its way into Thomas’ mind, _But how do you know? You don’t remember anything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter! good news: i'm only one chapter away from being done this first fic, which is very exciting! if i get far enough into the sequel, i might even change the update schedule to once a week, but don't get your hopes up yet lol.

The next day begins early, with a rough shake of his shoulder and a familiar voice telling him to _get up, bloody lazy shank_.

The rude awakening isn’t appreciated at first, but when Newt tells him that he’ll get more answers to his never-ending list of questions, Thomas feels more than excited to get moving.

Newt leads him in a wide arc around the Glade, pointing out the four doors leading into the maze. He explains the monsters that lurk outside their walls, _Grievers_ , and gives Thomas a pointed glare when he asks if Newt has ever really seen one. Thomas drops the conversation immediately, trying to forget about the way his breath had stuttered when Newt had looked at him like that.

They stop at the West door right before it opens. Thomas watches, silent, as Newt converses with the two boys before they start their journey into the maze.

He recognizes one of them from the night before. It’s the dark haired boy that had come to say hello to Thomas during the bonfire party. Now that Thomas can see him in proper lighting, he notices the boy’s golden skin, and the way his wiry muscles move under his t-shirt.

All Thomas is able to see of the other runner is that he has curly brown hair before the boy turns away from him. Thomas frowns, reminding himself to ask Newt about the boys avoiding him again.

Suddenly, a piercing noise sounds throughout the Glade, and Thomas jumps back in alarm, covering his ears frantically to the block out the sound.

Newt shoots him an amused look, while the dark-haired runner scowls, rolling his eyes at Thomas and yelling over the noise, “Can’t be that much of a surprise, Greenie. You were here yesterday when the doors closed.” He realizes then, with help from the runner’s words, that the sound is coming from the walls next to them. They’re moving, creating an opening between them in a way that 200 foot stone walls shouldn’t be able to do.

They finally settle after a minute, leaving the Glade eerily quiet. The two runners only stay still for another moment, each giving Newt a nod, before they’re off into the maze.

“I heard it before,” Thomas stutters as a way of explanation, “but I didn’t expect _that._ ”

Newt nods, still grinning lightheartedly. “It takes getting used to, like everything else here.” He gestures toward the center of the Glade, and they begin walking towards it in companionable silence.

“There’s still a lot of things I don’t understand,” Thomas starts a little while later, only to be quickly cut off.

“Yeah, that’s gonna happen for a while. Just try not to ask any stupid questions and you’ll figure everything out eventually.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, annoyed. “So why don’t you guys tell me anything? It would make things a lot easier.”

“That’s a stupid question Tommy,” Newt says, though he doesn’t look angry. By now they’ve reached the box in the center of the Glade, and Thomas stops to study the metal beneath his feet. It seems surreal to him; that he only arrived in this place less than twenty-four hours ago. It almost feels like years already. Newt stops when he notices him, facing Thomas with a smile.

“Great,” Thomas huffs, “so how the hell am I supposed to know what to ask if you guys don’t tell me anything? Do you do this to all of the guys, or am I just special?” Newt lets out a loud laugh, and Thomas’ face heats when he realizes that Newt is teasing him.

Newt must decide to take pity on Thomas, because he doesn’t mention his reddening face when he says, “It’ll make sense after a while. They just don’t want you running out of here like a shank if you learn something you don’t like.”

“Am I going to?”

“Learn something that’s gonna’ make you wanna’ run for the bloody hills?” Newt tilts his head and looks back toward the maze. “Probably. But it helps if you’re more comfortable in this place first; made a few friends, got settled in proper, that sort of thing.”

“And how am I supposed to be making friends when people want to run away as soon as I come near them?”

“What?” Newt tries to sound surprised, but Thomas isn’t convinced.

“C’mon, Newt,” Thomas says, stepping forward to put a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. He finds that he isn’t surprised when Newt lets him. “You can’t tell me you’ve missed all of the looks these guys are giving me.” Thomas looks at him fully, for what seems like the first time, and notices the indecision that is incaptured in his dark eyes. Newt shakes his head, as if he’s arguing with himself.

“What’s going on?” Thomas asks, his words are soft but his tone is strained.

“You tell anyone your name yet, Greenie?” Newt questions, looking away from Thomas.

“I thought we weren’t going to call me Greenie,” Thomas says, after a moment. He takes a step back from the blonde, hand falling to his side. “I told Chuck. Why does it matter?”

Newt takes in a heavy breath in. His face is twisted in concern when he says, “Don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

“Why not?” Thomas questions, frustrated at the lack of answers and the almost-guilty expression Newt has. “C’mon Newt, what the hell is happening here? Why won’t you tell me anything?”

“It’s better for you if you know less right now, Tommy,” Newt tries, but Thomas can tell his resolve is weakening.

“Well maybe it’s better for me if I tell everyone what my name is.”

It gets the reaction Thomas is looking for; Newt spins around, eyes panicked enough that he doesn’t try to hide it. “Look,” he says, shoving a finger into Thomas’ chest, “I’ll tell you what I know, okay? But you stop asking me _actual_ stupid questions I don’t know the bloody answer to, and you don’t tell anyone you remember your name. Got it?”

“Yeah, okay.” Thomas nods.

“Alright.” Newt copies the movement, turning his head around. Thomas guesses it’s to make sure no one is listening, and then he wonders why it’s such a big deal that only Thomas can know. “So you know how I said there are Grievers out in the maze, right? Well, the reason everybody’s so bloody scared of the things is because they sting you. Getting Stung makes you go through the Changing... Makes you go a bit mental, and no one’s ever the same person after it.

“So there was this slinthead runner named Ben who got Stung exactly six months ago, the day Chuck showed up. After the Changing, he started acting weird, weirder than any of the rest of the guys I’ve ever seen go through it. He started screaming about how this was the end, and how we were doomed if we didn’t get out. Then, when he was finally recovered from it, the shuckface ran into the maze, and never came back out.” As he told the story, Newt’s face slowly gets more upset, until his lips are pinched and there’s an unnecessary amount of tension in his forehead.

“So what does that have to do with me?” Thomas asks, and winces when he realizes what his impatient tone might imply. But Newt just shakes his head, looking down at his feet.

“Since Ben got Stung, and Chuck came into the Glade, there hasn’t been a new Greenie to arrive. Also, supplies stopped coming exactly a month ago. And then you show up, Tommy, completely out of the blue, and there’s no supplies with you. So maybe it makes a bit of sense why everyone around here is avoidin’ you. We don’t know why we’ve stopped getting supplies, and most of the guys here think it probably has something to do with you.”

Thomas’ mind starts spinning with the new information. _It can’t have anything to do with me,_ he reasons with himself. But then another thought makes its way into Thomas’ mind, _But how do you know? You don’t remember anything._

“Oh.” Is all he’s able to croak out in response.

“Yeah, Tommy, ‘oh’ is shucking right. Now, we’re gonna go finish this bleedin’ tour of the jobs we were supposed to start twenty minutes ago, and you’re gonna keep your shuck mouth shut about everything I just told you. Understand?”

Before Thomas can answer, a loud, horn-like alarm sounds from somewhere near them. The box, which he and Newt are standing on top of, shakes violently. Newt grabs Thomas’ arm and pulls them both off the metal platform, just as the doors beneath their feet begin to open. They both fall onto their backs on the grass, and Thomas takes a gasping breath as the wind is knocked out of him. He doesn’t know how much time it takes for him to get his breath back, but the alarm is still sounding right next to them.

“Newt!” Thomas hears, though the words sound far away. “What the shuck is happening?”

Newt groans, which Thomas can only barely hear over the alarm still blaring, and calls back out, “Dunno! Bloody box just opened outta nowhere!” The blonde rises into a standing position and holds a thin hand out for Thomas to take. He accepts gratefully and stands to find the Gladers crowded around them. Or, more specifically, the box. They’re all alert and questioning, oddly so for a group a boys that were just rudely awakened by an unexpected alarm.

“What’s in it, Alby?” Newt asks, stepping closer to where the boy is crouching over the opening. Thomas follows, curiosity and an odd feeling of worry curling in his stomach.

Alby doesn’t respond to the blonde’s question. Instead, he stares down into the hole, silent and still. Thomas pushes past Newt to see for himself, and he feels like he’s been pulled to the ground again, breath catching in his chest, when he sees the body laying still in the box, two sentences written on a pale arm.

 

**SHE’S THE LAST ONE**

**YOU’RE OUT OF TIME**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! i love everyone's comments and kudos! :)


	3. វង្វេង

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’re gonna come back.” The blonde’s round face is gaunt, his words are monotone, and, though he probably should, Thomas can’t be bothered to believe the lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3! we're slowly moving farther away from canon, and i'd love to hear some of your theories about what you think might happen!

The girl is quickly lifted away by the two guys Thomas doesn’t know, her long, dark hair hanging tangled over one of their arms as they hastily make their way to what they call the homestead.

Thomas watches them leave, bewildered and dizzy with an odd feeling of remembrance. He knows the girl; with her oval-shaped face and long neck and thin lips. _He knows her, he remembers her. He remembers her. He remembers her. He remembers-_

“Greenie? The shuck are you doin’?” Thomas shakes his head, trying to remove the shocked expression he knows he’s carrying. Alby is standing in front of him, eyes narrowed and knowing.

“Sorry,” Thomas says, “just tired.” Alby looks like he wants to push, but Newt is suddenly by Thomas’ side, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“I woke him up pretty early this morning Alby. Cut ‘im some slack, yeah?” The blonde says, and Thomas tries not to look at him.

“You hurry up with the job tour, Newt,” the leader says pointedly. He’s still frowning when he turns away from the two of them, heading towards the homestead. The crowd of boys around Thomas follow suit, each wandering off into their own places in the Glade. Newt watches them go in silence, and, when none are in earshot, turns to Thomas with a glare.

“You know something.”

Thomas feels his face heat under Newt’s heavy stare. He pushes the thoughts of confessing from his mind, breaking eye contact and saying, “No.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Newt says, and though the words aren’t threatening, they hold a weight Thomas never thought words could. That, combined with the way Newt is staring at him, makes a heavy guilt settle low in Thomas’ chest.

“Newt…”

“No,” he cuts Thomas off. “Here we have rules and order and we don’t keep secrets if something weird like this happens.” Newt looks earnest, like he really cares about what he is saying, and like he wants Thomas’ to believe him, believe in their group, believe in the _Glade._

Thomas nods in agreeance, mind already made up. Newt’s face morphs into relief; relaxing into an easy grin. He nods his head towards the animal pens in the southeast corner of the Glade, starting off in a walk that Thomas quickly keeps up with. “What did you remember, Tommy?”

“I didn’t remember anything, Newt,” Thomas states, hoping that if he says it confidently enough, it will make Newt (and Thomas himself) believe the words.

It takes a moment for the blonde to register, his relaxed expression withering away to frustration. They keep walking in silence, and Thomas can practically feel the irritation rolling off of Newt.

“You’re lying to me, Greenie,” he finally says, and it’s the first time Thomas has heard him speak in such a monotone voice; the words lacking any sort of emotion.

“Just leave it alone, Newt,” Thomas says, and it’s like it settles a blanket of unease over the two of them, leaving them both silent and restless as they finally arrive at the animal pens.

Newt and Thomas don’t talk much as the blonde shows Thomas the rest of the jobs; Newt seeming keen to leave Thomas to figure them out himself after their conversation. He doesn’t, though, and instead stays with Thomas throughout his time at each job, though Thomas can tell he’s uncomfortable and itching to be somewhere else.

They part ways after Thomas finishes up with the builders (by far Thomas’ least favourite group, especially with the antagonizing way their leader, Gally, looks at him); Newt giving him a short nod before he turns toward the homestead. Thomas watches him go, noticing, for the first time, how Newt favours his right leg considerably as he walks, though he obviously tries to hide it. Thomas wants to ask him about it, but remembers the look the blonde had given him just that morning when Thomas had asked him if he had ever seen a griever, and decides to keep his mouth shut about it for now.

Thomas putters around the Glade for some time after, exploring his way around. Some of the guys, mostly the keepers he had met while going around to the jobs, say hi or wave. It’s some of the first friendly faces Thomas has seen during his stay in the Glade, and it makes his thoughts turn a little bit more hopeful.

 

-

 

He meets Chuck for dinner in the homestead. The boy looks uncomfortably tired; slouched and dark circles under his eyes, yet he still gives Thomas a wide smile when he walks in.

“How was seeing all of the jobs today? You like anything?” Chuck asks once Thomas has sat down, bowl of soup in front of them both.

Thomas thinks about the question for a moment, trying to think of one of the jobs he liked. “Didn’t mind working with Frypan. But I’m not very good at cooking. I could deal with being a track-hoe, maybe. But I don’t think I could just stand around and do that everyday.”

Chuck grimaces. “Well you might want to decide sometime soon. If you’re no good at anything or you don’t decide on anything they make you a slopper. You don’t want to be a slopper.” The boy nods to his right, and Thomas turns to see a group of six boys scrubbing the dirty dishes behind the counter. Thomas thinks he would even rather be a _slopper_ than a slicer.

The doors to the homestead open then, and the dark-haired runner Thomas had met the night before, _Minho_ , comes stalking into the room. He goes to one of the tables in the back of the room immediately, where Thomas notices both Newt and Alby rising from their seats. Thomas hadn’t even noticed the two of them come in.

Conversation in the room slows to a crawl as Newt, Alby, and Minho duck their heads and start whispering furiously to each other. Chuck even stops, spoon halfway to his mouth, to stare at the three of them. Unfortunately, Thomas is too far away to catch what any of them are saying, and Minho, once he sees all of the eyes on them, yells, “Go back to eating, ya’ nosy shanks.”

The silence is broken as the Gladers begin to mumble to each other, speculating on the reason for the boys’ hushed conversation.

A thought comes to Thomas as he watches Minho walk out the door. “I think I want to be a runner,” he says to Chuck, not expecting the younger boy to start laughing.

“Good luck with that,” he says, wiping the dribbling soup from his chin. “Most of those guys have been runners for years. They don’t get replaced very often.”

“Very often?”

Chuck grin fades. “No one ever really _stops_ being a runner, unless something happens to them.”

Instead of pushing Chuck further on the subject, Thomas stays quiet, taking a small sip of his soup. He glances around the room, wondering if anyone had heard their conversation, when he notices Newt. Thomas thinks the blonde is frustrated with the other two, and his guess is proven correct when Minho goes to put his hand on Newt’s shoulder and he dodges it.

Newt turns away and walks into one of the back rooms. Thomas suddenly remembers their earlier conversation about the girl, and the lie Thomas had told to him.

“Does anyone here remember anything, Chuck?” Thomas asks abruptly, turning his head back to the younger boy.

“No.” The skin between Chuck’s eyebrows creases as he thinks. “The guys that go through the Changing, though, ‘parently they remember some stuff after it’s happened.”

“Who’s all gone through the Changing that’s here, then?” Thomas leans forward slightly, pushing aside his soup absentmindedly.

“No one,” Chuck answers. His eyes go dark again, like they always seem to do when Thomas asks a bad question. “All the guys who go through it either run away or…”

“Like Ben?” Thomas says suddenly, another memory of an earlier conversation taking place in the front of his mind.

“How do you know about…”

The world cuts out for just a moment, and all Thomas can hear is a faint buzzing in his ears, and then a quiet _Thomas, please don’t do this._ The memory is gone in an instant, as Thomas desperately tries to grasp the strings of it. But all he’s left with is a flash of blue eyes and a haunting voice that won’t stop repeating the words.

“I have to go,” Thomas says, trying to keep from being too frantic. Confused, Chuck opens his mouth to ask Thomas something, but he rises from his seat before the boy gets a chance; moving through the rows of tables until he reaches the back of the room. He slips through the door, ignoring the hush that falls over the Gladers behind him.

The room is simple; with handmade shelves filled with small amounts of medicine and bandages, and two beds with blankets in place for mattresses. A door that leads outside is open just a crack, the light just trickling in to paint the room in an eerie glow. Thomas’ eyes immediately turn to the girl lying on the bed farthest away from him, and Newt, who is checking her pulse. The blonde quickly writes something on a piece of paper before turning to Thomas and raising an eyebrow.

Thomas bites the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting on the Newt’s gaunt cheeks and slouched stance. Instead, he asks, “Is she awake?”

“Does it look like it?” It sounds like it should be sharp, but Newt doesn’t have the effort to make it any more than monotone.

Thomas glances at the girl and the familiar arches of her face, her long nose. He feels Newt’s eyes on him, and he doesn’t know whether it’s that or the familiarity of the girl that makes him uneasy. “No”

“There’s your answer.”

“Why are you so mad at me all of the sudden?”

“It’s not…” Newt takes a deep breath. “Look, Tommy, a lot’s happenin’ right now that scarin’ people, and we’re just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“Well maybe if you explained things to me then I could understand everything better,” Thomas frowns at Newt’s expressionless face. “Shank,” he says as an afterthought.

Newt features twists until Thomas is positive he’s trying hide a smile.

The sound of the door closing behind Thomas almost makes him jump. “Newt, don’t tell me you’re teaching the Greenbean to swear like _that_.” The dark-haired boy struts into the room easily, side-eyeing Thomas as he walks up to Newt. Thomas bristles at the look.

The blonde doesn’t seem to notice, and shows Minho a small smile. He looks at Thomas and says, “This is Minho. He’s the one you met this morning. And last night, I guess. He’s the keeper of the runners.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice to meet you and all that.” Minho waves a hand at Thomas. “But I need to talk to Newt right now, if you wouldn’t mind stepping outside.”

“But…” Thomas’ gaze moves from Newt to the girl.

“You can stare at your girlfriend later, Greenie.” Minho rolls his eyes, giving Thomas a pointed look. He tries to catch Newt’s eyes, to see if the blonde would stick up for him, but he stays silent as he looks at the floor.

Thomas leaves in a frustrated huff, slamming the door as he walks back out into the dining area. Thankfully, the noise is drowned out by the talking in the room, so only a few heads turn at his temper tantrum.

Appetite gone, Thomas leaves the homestead briskly, annoyed and trying to avoid stomping his feet like a child. The door opens facing one of the four walls of the Glade, with a few trees surrounding the homestead. Thomas decides to cut around the back of the building to get to his hammock quickly, hoping to sleep off the day and begin tomorrow with a fresh start.

As he walks behind the homestead, he’s surprised to notice the slightly open door that he had seen in the medical room. He hears a muffled but tense conversation unfold, and the words leave Thomas confused.

“He shouldn’t even be going in the first place.” That’s Newt’s voice, tight and pitched low.

Minho responds gently, almost like he’s trying to be comforting. “You know how Alby is, Newt. C’mon. If this new door is our way out, then-”

“You don’t know what you saw. I’m sorry that I don’t want someone who hasn’t ran in an entire _year_ to go out into that bloody Maze.” Thomas can hear the emotion in the blonde’s voice, how it rises in volume until it cracks on his last word.

“We need to do this.”

“Then you promise me, Minho.”

“You know that’s not how it works-”

“Promise me. _Please_.” Thomas feels a pool of guilt rise up into his throat. The conversation is obviously private, if the raw emotion he can hear in their voices is anything to go by. Suddenly, it seems like a terrible idea to have followed through with, and Thomas quickly backs away from the open door. Turning on his heels, Thomas leaves.

He wanders to his hammock in a haze, running the conversation through his head. It seems familiar; like he’s heard the same argument before, but he can’t figure out the significance of the words. He thinks about turning the opposite way and telling Newt, explaining the dream, and the girl, and the weird memories he can’t forget. What stops him, though, is the picture of Newt’s face in the makeshift hospital room; his tired hooded eyes, pale lips bitten bloody. The blonde obviously has enough on his mind. He doesn’t need Thomas coming in and adding another thing on his shoulders.

Chuck is just climbing into his hammock when Thomas arrives. He gives Thomas a look, eyebrows disappearing under his curly hair, but doesn’t say anything.

A thought pops into Thomas’ head when he’s finally settled into his own hammock, and he asks, in a hushed whisper, “Why aren’t you scared of me, like all of the other guys are?”

“No one’s scared of you,” Chuck answers a moment later.

“No, they just won’t talk to me,” Thomas replies bitterly. “Because they think it’s somehow _my fault_ that supplies has stopped coming.”

Chuck sits up straight in his hammock, rocking it slightly as he swivels around to look at Thomas. “How do you know about that?” At Thomas’ confused frown, he adds quietly, “We were told not to tell you. So that Alby and Newt and the rest of the keepers could watch you to make sure you weren’t apart of whoever put us here.”

A flurry of emotions speed through Thomas’ body, irritation and a spike of guilt being the most prominent. _Even if you weren’t apart of it, you’re still keeping things from them. But they’re also keeping things from you._

“...Newt told you about the supplies thing, didn’t he? And he told you about Ben.” Chuck is talking to himself, mumbling under his breath. “That’s why he came to me and told me not to tell anyone your name.”

A crease runs along Thomas’ forehead as he remembers what Newt had said, ... _you don’t tell anyone you remember your name. Got it?_ Thomas, mind filled with new information, had forgotten to ask Newt _why_ his name needed to remain a secret. And why Newt had been so uncomfortable when Thomas had introduced himself that first night.

The thoughts trigger a large dose of suspicion in Thomas, and he says, “Chuck, something weird’s going on here, more than they’re telling us.”

To Thomas’ surprise, Chuck looks at him sharply. “You don’t know them. Newt and Alby and Gally and Minho? They’ve been here from the start. They were here before we had rules, before anyone knew what they were doing. So don’t go talking klunk about them until you really know them.” He pauses for a second, finding his words. “Sure, Alby’s a bossy shank and Gally yells a lot when you don’t do your job properly, but they’re still apart of the group.” _They’re still part of our family,_ is the obvious statement left unsaid.

Thomas goes silent for a while after Chuck’s speech. He finds himself unsurprised by Chuck’s defensiveness towards the Gladers, and kicks himself for bringing the topic up. It’s obvious that Thomas doesn’t understand the whole dynamic the Gladers have, and he convinces himself he’ll try and veer away from the more risky topics with Chuck from now on.

So, instead, Thomas decides to dissipate the awkward silence with a safer question. “Why do you think we’re here, Chuck?” The younger boy sighs, his chest rising under his blanket.

“The boys talk about it sometimes,” he starts, “maybe we’re the last people on Earth and we’re stuck in some sort of game. Some of them think it’s a prison, or a way to kill us because we did something bad before. Some other people think that we’re some sort of science experiment, like a mouse in a maze.”

“What do you think, Chuck?”

“I don’t know. But I think my parents wouldn’t let something like this happen to me.” He sounds so sure that it instills a beat of (what Thomas would call) false hope in his heart.

“You remember your parents?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“No, but I always thought my parents were out there.” Thomas doesn’t comment on the shakiness of Chuck’s voice. “Wherever there is. I don’t remember my mom, but I want to talk to her, tell her I miss her and…” There’s a choked sob, and Thomas suddenly remembers one of the builders laughing, saying that Chuck had cried his entire first week in the Glade. Thomas had wanted to punch him then, feelings of protectiveness welling up. He had just pulled away enough from the feeling to not continue with his violent plan of action, but now, he wishes he had.

“You’ll find them,” Thomas says eventually, after Chuck’s muffled sniffles have died down, and Thomas isn’t really sure if the boy is still awake.

Just as Thomas is drifting off himself, in a sleep that he knows will be fitful, he hears a small voice whispering.

_“Thank you.”_

 

-

 

Thomas wakes to a familiar looking room, feeling a strong amount of frustration from its occupants.

There’s also a person (sitting? standing?) in front of him, and Thomas recognizes them almost immediately.

“You know he’s not going to make it,” the person says.

Thomas hears a mumbled reply. Through his hazy vision, he can see the person shake their head vehemently.

“You know why we have to do this. This isn’t about us anymore. We’re _saving_ people. Isn’t that worth it?”

Another quiet response, and the frustration in the room grows.

“But this isn’t the answer! You know what will happen if you go through with this.”

The other person in the small room, the one who Thomas can’t quite hear, huffs angrily, and Thomas can feel his own muscles go tight with exasperation.

There’s a small, heavy-weighted silence, before the person nods sadly. “Okay.” They leave.

The room is cold.

 

-

 

Thomas wakes up quickly, heart gasping through his chest. The sounds of his struggle as he tries to balance himself in the hammock does not go unnoticed; Chuck, and a few of the other boys a little farther away from them, stir. Though, by some luck, Chuck is the only one to wake, groaning quietly, head shoved under his pillow.

“Thomas?” He says. And though his voice is hushed, Thomas still panics as his name is said.

He shushes him loudly, making several of the nearby Gladers shift and murmur insults at him through groggy voices and yawns.

“What’s going on?” Chuck says, learning from Thomas’ mistake and speaking just above a whisper.

“Nothing, sorry Chuck, I just…” Thomas shakes his head, trying to clear it of the cloud that has settled over in his brain. He remembers… He remembers something, but that something is hazy and unclear at best. There was a person, someone Thomas knew… _We’re_ saving _people._

His eyes rise up to Chuck’s face and his mouth opens to apologize for waking him up, when a small movement from far behind the boy grabs Thomas’ attention. Two silhouettes in the distance. “Why’s Alby going in the maze?”

“Is he?” Chuck exclaims, and it sets off another round of insults and groaning from the Gladers surrounding them. Chuck’s face goes pink, but he still follows Thomas’ gaze and checks over his shoulder. His forehead is creased in confusion, and he continues with, “I’m not sure. No one but the runners are supposed to leave like that.”

It’s Alby and Minho who are standing just outside the doors. From the little Thomas can see from such a far away distance, he can still make out the small backpacks they wear, as well as Alby’s t-shirt and shorts that Thomas believes matches those of the runners he saw yesterday.

“Do you think they found something?” Chuck mumbles, looking back to him. But Thomas’ eyes are glued to the two boys, and the other tall blonde that has joined them.

The grinding of metal against metal echoes through the Glade, but Thomas barely flinches this time around as he watches Newt grasps the other two boys in tight hugs, before watching them disappear into the maze when the doors settle to a stop.

“Doors…” Thomas murmurs to himself.

“What?”

Thomas turns to Chuck, face twisted as he thinks. “Minho. He said something about a door yesterday. A new door in the maze.”

“Minho’s been running the maze for three years.” Chuck is dubious, turning his head once again to look back at the doors. “How could they have just found something now?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas watches as Newt stands still and straight-backed, staring into the opening of the maze.

 

-

 

It’s hours later, and Thomas can feel the anxiety surrounding the Gladers he’s working with. Something’s wrong; it’s obvious in the way the boys are acting; annoyed and constantly looking towards the maze doors. But Thomas can’t figure out the reason for the complete change in mood.

The Gladers seem to be too busy worrying to be sending Thomas side eyes, though, which seems to be the one positive thing Thomas can bring out of the situation, especially after he finally goes to Newt to ask what’s going on.

He first looks for Chuck, but the other sloppers tell him that the boy is too busy cleaning up the slicers’ mess to talk, and Thomas isn’t thrilled about going back to that job anyway. So, he goes to his second (and last option) on the short list of people Thomas trusts.

The blonde is standing under the canopy of the trees near the hammocks, staring hard at the doors, like they’ll somehow move if he wants it enough. Thomas approaches slowly, unsure of where the two of them stand from their conversations yesterday, and not wanting to make the already-tense boy any more stressed than he needs to be.

And he _is_ tense; arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to hold in his own composure. He straightens up when Thomas comes near; lifts his chin and folds his arms, like he wants to look more confident than he actually is.

“Something’s going on,” Thomas states once he’s only a few feet away from the blonde. Newt, instead of growing angry like Thomas expects, only dips his head down in a nod. Thomas stops himself from asking the burning questions on the tip of his tongue, instead choosing to let Newt explain.

And he does, after a few seconds of silence. “They should’ve been here hours ago.” He looks back to the west doors.

It takes only a moment for Thomas to realize. “Minho and Alby.”

Newt chews on his lip and doesn’t offer any more information. But from the overheard conversations from the night before, and the way the blonde’s face is etched with worry, Thomas doesn’t have to think very hard to fill in the rest of the blanks.

“Newt,” Thomas says softly. The blonde turns away like he hasn’t heard him, starting back towards the homestead. Thomas reaches out, grasping his arm and whirling Newt around to face him. “Newt! What happens if they don’t come back?”

“They’re gonna come back.” The blonde’s round face is gaunt, his words are monotone, and, though he probably should, Thomas can’t be bothered to believe the lie.

 

-

 

Thomas follows Newt. They stand in front of the West door a long while after. The blonde is still, not making a sound when Thomas joins him. Thomas can see the faint red rim around Newt’s eyes, and wishes that he was able to say something, anything, that would help.

Instead, he asks, “How long?” The blonde wipes a hand over his face, voice thick and unsteady.

“Not long enough.”

 

-

 

The rest of the Gladers gather near the door not too long after. Most are silent as the minutes tick by, and Thomas can almost feel the hope drain out of the boys as time goes on.

The mood drops even further, taking on a strong note of dread and desperation, as the shifting gears of the doors sound out. It’s a call; it’s a warning. And Thomas knows what it means.

He can hear the mumbling behind him, the shocked gasps as boys realize. And Thomas, though he doesn’t know these boys, though he just arrived in the Glade two days before, feels his heart drop into his stomach for them. The boys who will be grieving for their friends, the boys who will be forever stuck in the maze.

But then, Thomas sees them. They’re at the end of the long corridor leading out from the Glade, about eighty feet away. But they aren’t running.

“There! I see them!” Chuck notices as well, pointing towards the boys, panic clear in his tone. Because he, and every boy standing with them, can see the way Alby is leaning heavily on Minho as they limp towards the door. But the door is still closing, and, though they’re only fifty feet away now, it is already halfway closed.

The Gladers around Thomas are screaming for the boys to run faster, but Thomas can see, even as the adrenaline starts fading from Alby’s and Minho’s eyes, that they aren’t going to make it. Not with their pace, not with Alby’s mangled leg trailing on the ground behind him.

“They’re not…” Newt whispers beside him, and it’s one of the only clear things Thomas can hear over the roaring of the other boys. Thomas looks at the blonde for just a second, the tear slipping down his cheek, and makes a decision.

It’s easy, while everyone is so focused on the two boys in the maze, to start running. The doors are almost closed, and Thomas knows he only has less than ten seconds to make it through. He feels the ghosts of hands at his back, hears the desperate cries for him to _stop_ ! _Come back!_ But it’s too late.

Thomas feels the hard stone of the doors scraping against his arms as he forces himself through the doors and into the Maze. Through the loud _thud_ of the doors closing, he thinks he can still hear the cries of the boys on the other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :)


	4. o labirinto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are a lot different when you’re drunk,” Thomas remarks conversationally.
> 
> “I’m a lot different when I’m not about to die, too,” Minho snaps, tying the last of his knots around Alby’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i am very very dumb, and i am extremely sorry that you had to deal with that lol. soooo i thought for some reason that i was supposed to update today instead of last friday, so that's why this update is so late. i'm really sorry if you guys were disappointed, but i'll post another chapter next wednesday as well as next friday to make up for it. 
> 
> this chapter has a bit more action, which i'm not great at writing, but i hope you all still enjoy it! :)

The maze is silent, for only a second, Thomas’ heavy breathing the only thing interrupting the silence. He turns to look at Minho and Alby, both of which are staring at him with varying mixtures of shock and anger.

“You’re an idiot,” Minho growls. Thomas almost takes a step back because of the true rage behind his words.

“Minho-,” Alby starts.

“No, Alby. This shank just signed his own death wish.” Minho stalks forward, leaving Alby leaning up against a wall. He gets right into Thomas’ face, shoving a little at his chest. Thomas tilts his chin up, refusing to shy away from him. “I know you think you were trying to save us or something, Greenie, but now all three of us are dead.”

“Minho,” Alby says tightly, grimacing from his place on the wall, “lay off.”

Minho whips around to look at the other boy. “No, Alby, I won’t lay off. Do you know what happens now that we’re dead?” His voice gets progressively louder as his rant continues, and Thomas can see his hands shaking. “All of the guys in there are without a runner, _ and _ their leader. We’ve never lost three in one day. It’s going to kill them, you  _ know  _ that. And Newt-.”

Thomas watches as all the tension leaves Minho’s body. His shoulders slump, and his head falls. “Oh god,  _ Newt _ .” Minho slumps to the ground. 

Turning his eyes to Alby, Thomas sees the recognition, and the slow morph to overwhelming sadness that plagues Alby’s face. 

“He’ll figure it out; he always does,” Alby states, though his voice shakes through the words. Minho buries his head in his hands.  _ They really care about him,  _ Thomas thinks, and feels a spike of guilt at the thought of Newt having to lead the Gladers by himself without some of his closest friends by his side. 

“He won’t have to.” Thomas takes a step forward. Alby raises a questioning look his way. “We’re going to get back to the Glade.”

“You’re still an idiot,” Minho bites, though his tone sounds more defeated than scathing, muffled from his hands. “No one survives a night in the maze, anyone ever tell you that?”

“There’s no way to survive until morning, Thomas,” Alby agrees, “You wouldn’t even have a chance normally, and now you have a guy who can’t even walk by himself because of a broken leg.”

“So you won’t even try?” Thomas asks incredulously. “If we’re going to die anyway, why can’t we at least try to survive? It’s all the same either way, if what you're saying is right.”

Minho shakes his head, but stays silent. 

“I don’t know how conscious I’ll be by the morning. So if you have somewhere to hide me for the night, I’m all ears.” Alby tries to stretch out his leg, and hisses in pain when he has to put any amount of weight on it.

Thomas glances around, eyes caught on a large, thick grouping of ivy on the wall across from the door. 

“I think I may have something.”

 

-

 

Alby passes out as they’re tying the ivy around him, and the only other person Thomas is able to talk to is Minho, who’ s silent and brooding the entire time. Thomas can tell that he isn’t in the mood to chat, but Thomas was never very good at following social queues.

“You are a lot different when you’re drunk,” Thomas remarks conversationally.

“I’m a lot different when I’m not about to die, too,” Minho snaps, tying the last of his knots around Alby’s chest.

Thomas feels a spike of annoyance. “Why are you giving up?”

Minho exhales a harsh breath through his nose before closing his eyes and saying, “If you knew how many people we’ve seen die in this god-awful maze, I don’t think you’d be so damn optimistic.”

Thomas nods, even though Minho can’t see him. They get into position to pull Alby up into the vines, when a sudden clicking sound makes Minho freeze. The noise sounds like it’s only a hundred feet away, at most, and Thomas can discern from Minho’s reaction that it is most definitely a griever, and it’s getting closer to them. 

“C’mon we gotta’ move,” Thomas whispers. Minho stays frozen for a couple more seconds, only stopped by Thomas’ strained  _ Minho, c’mon.  _ They each grab a vine, and with synchronized heave from the two of them, they are able to get Alby into the air. 

The clicking sound is suddenly joined by a much more frightening whirring noise, and the sound of metal rubbing together. It sounds close, too close, and when Thomas risks a glance behind them, he knows exactly why.

“Again, c’mon Minho! We need to get him higher!” Thomas whisper-shouts and him, but when he turns to look at Minho, he’s already staring over his own shoulder, frozen with fear as a griever, comes into view at the far end of their corridor. It looks like an overgrown spider, with metal limbs and some sort of soft, slug-like body.

For a split second, Thomas thinks Minho will run off and leave him, but he takes a breath, turns around, and heaves on the vine yet again, Thomas scrabbling to pull his own vine up as well. They manage to get Alby mostly into position before the griever sees them, just tying the ends off the vines when a loud screech echoes off the walls from behind. Suddenly, Minho has a hand grabbing the back of his shirt, and he’s yanking Thomas away from the vines and down the corridor adjacent to them. They both take off at a run, and Thomas fights the urge to look behind him as the sound of clanking metal gets louder.

 

-

They run for what seems like hours, taking sharp corners and never stopping. Minho leads them through the maze, and, miraculously, even though they had already heard the walls start to change, they never once end up trapped in a dead end.

Just when Thomas is really starting to feel the exhaustion from running at full speed for so long, he notices the whirring noises start to fade off, until, a few minutes later, when they stop entirely. Thomas risks a look behind him, noticing the way they’ve come from is completely clear, no grievers to be seen.

Thomas slows to a jog, tugging at Minho’s sleeve to get his attention. The other boy snaps his gaze around to Thomas and, noticing the empty corridor space them, also slows his speed down. When they reach the end of the corridor, they both stop without a word, leaning against the wall and gasping for breath. Thomas puts his hands on his knees and breathes deep, trying to stop his legs from shaking.

“Why’d it stop following us?” Minho asks, looking back down the way they had just come from.

“Don’t know,” Thomas says, more focused on the way his heart feels like it’s going to burst from his chest.

But Minho persists. “No one's ever outran those things, there’s no way it just stopped following us.” He frowns hard, and Thomas is amazed by the way Minho’s breath has already evened out.

“Well why else would it leave?”

“I don’t know.” Minho groans, scrubbing his face with a hand. “The only thing I know that really gets their attention is noise, I don’t how, but those things have ears like a bat’s.” He turns back to Thomas. “But there’s nothing else that would make a different noise in the maze, except…”

Thomas sees the realization appear on Minho’s face, just as he figures it out himself.

“Alby.”

 

-

 

The time it takes to get back to the doors feels tripled in length. Minho, who is frantic to get back to his friend, pushes Thomas to run harder than he ever has. Even though Thomas’ thighs burn and his chest feels so tight it’s hard to breathe, he doesn’t stop.

As soon as the familiar wall of vines is visible again, Minho picks up his speed, sprinting to Alby’s hiding place. Thomas does the opposite, walking the rest of the way. The adrenaline has not yet left his body, but the pain in his chest balances the feeling out, creating an almost dizzy effect in Thomas’ head. He shakes himself, breathing in deep and trying to calm himself down.

When he lifts his head, he sees Minho places a hand on Alby’s cheek in an oddly intimate gesture that makes Thomas feel like he’s somehow intruding on something, so he looks to the floor yet again. He can here Minho moving around, probably checking Alby’s pulse and scanning him for other injuries

“He’s alive, and he doesn’t look hurt,” Minho says, sounding relieved, yet confused. “He’s unconscious still. How can he be unconscious if…”

It’s then that Thomas hears it. The now familiar whirring noise, accompanied by metal screeching together.

“Minho…” Thomas says, tapping the other boy on the shoulder insistently. Minho turns, seeing them the same time Thomas does.

There are two grievers, one at the end of their corridor and the other at the end of the one adjacent, from where they had just ran from. They had trapped them in, and were gaining speed toward them fast. 

Thomas whips his head around, looking for any kind of solution that can get them out of the situation fast. He can feel his pulse hammering underneath his skin; the fear building inside of him. Then, he catches a glimpse of Alby, hidden in the vines.

Yanking Minho’s arm toward the wall, Thomas says, “Climb.”

Having no better option, Minho follows suit, and they start a shaky climb up the thick vines. They’re only up about fifteen feet before one of the grievers get to them, brandishing a long, knife-like metal limb. It winds up the appendage to strike, and Thomas quickly grabs a hold of one of the vines and slides down it, catching his foot in a groove in the wall and stopping five feet below where he had been. The griever stabs into the wall, right next to Minho, and right where Thomas’ back would have been. 

Thomas scrambles to the left, continuing to climb desperately up the vines with sweat slicked hands and no foot-holdings to stabilize him. Minho’s yelling at him frantically, but Thomas can’t hear him over the roaring in his ears, and the sounds of the other griever crashing into the wall. It makes Thomas lose his grip on one of the vines, and he drops to the ground.

The land shocks him, shooting pain up his hip and back. Thomas rolls as best he can to avoid the grievers metal legs, but they don’t seem too interested in him anymore, as one starts climbing the wall. Disoriented, Thomas looks up to see Minho, shoe in hand, screaming at the grievers.

“Yeah you slintheads, come and get me!” He chucks the shoe at the griever that’s still on the ground, bouncing it off it’s slimy body. It screeches at Minho, starting a slow climb up the wall. The griever that was already climbing zips past Minho as he shuffles away from it, until it’s about ten feet above him on the wall. They close in quickly, coming from both directions, and Thomas realizes Minho doesn’t have time to move to avoid them.

“Jump!” Thomas yells, and, even through the chaos of sounds around him, Minho must hear it, because he locks eyes with Thomas. Just as the grievers get in striking distance of Minho, he turns, foot against the wall, and jumps.

He flies over the griever below him just as it pounces, crashing into the one above, and sending them both to the ground. Minho lands on his feet and the impact sends him sprawling. Thomas is up and running to him in an instant, making sure to give the pile of mush and metal that used to be the grievers a wide berth on his way. 

Kneeling down beside Minho, Thomas puts a hesitant hand on his back, not knowing how much pain he might be in, and where he might be hurt. Minho flinches at the contact, but rolls over onto his back when Thomas retracts his hand.

“Good thinking, Greenie,” Minho says, wincing as he tries to sit up. Thomas helps him to lean against the wall, a feeling of gratitude welling up in his chest.

“You saved me,” Thomas says, “you got them away from me.”

“Well, without your stupid plan I never woulda’ lived anyway,” Minho snarks back.

“But-.”

Suddenly, a whirring sound starts up again, and Thomas turns his head just in time to see both grievers fly past them and down the opposite hall. They disappear from sight in only seconds, and Thomas doesn’t have any time to even be afraid before they’re gone

“What the shucking hell was that?” Minho exclaims, looking at Thomas as though he has an answer.

“I have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! comments and kudos are amazing! :)


	5. keputusan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you,” Newt whispers into his ear. He sniffs, hugging Thomas tighter for a moment longer than probably necessary. “Thank you for bringing them back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! so here is the extra chapter i promised. it's a definitely longer than the last one (because i can't be consistent to save my life), so i hope you enjoy it!

When the doors to the maze open, Newt is standing there. Thomas watches silently as the blonde’s expression morphs from apprehension to complete astonishment. 

“How…” he whispers, eyes darting from Minho to Thomas to Alby, who is leaning heavily on Thomas and Minho. He had finally regained consciousness only an hour or so before the sun had risen, and was looking worse for wear, the fabric wrapped around his leg caked in blood.

“It was mostly Greenie over here. Kid’s got a talent for not being stupid sometimes,” Minho says, shrugging. Newt shakes his head softly, eyes still wide and wet. He takes a single step forward, and suddenly he’s running. Thomas balances the brunt of Alby’s weight as Minho steps forward and wraps Newt into a hug. The blonde mumbles something and buries his head into Minho’s neck, hands curling tightly into the back of his shirt. Newt pulls out of the hug after a few seconds, turning towards Alby and Thomas, cheeks wet and smile big and wide. 

Placing a hand on Alby’s neck, Newt says, “You better not ever do something like that to me again,” and pulls Alby into a hug too, though the blonde makes sure to be careful around his leg.

“Minho?” A voice says. Thomas glances down at the sound and sees Chuck sitting against the wall at the doorway, obviously having just woken up. A burst of affection for the boy settles in Thomas once he realizes that he had probably slept there all night waiting for them, and then he wonders if Newt had done the same.

“Hey Chuck,” Minho says, nodding towards the homestead, “you wanna go grab Clint and Jeff for us? We gotta’ get Alby some help for his leg.”

“Yeah, of course.” Chuck rises to his feet, his face still full of surprise. He starts on his way to the homestead at a jog, and Thomas can hear his joyous shouts of  _ they’re back! _ and  _ they made it, they’re alive!  _ echoing around the Glade.The sound makes a subconscious smile spread onto Thomas’ face.

“C’mon, Alby. We gotta’ get you some help,” Minho says, and Newt pulls away from him. Minho places Alby’s arm around his shoulder, and just as Thomas is about to walk with them to the homestead, Newt grabs ahold of his arm.

“Greenie? Stay a minute, would you?” The blonde smiles a bit at him, and Thomas can feel his traitorous heart start to pound. He looks back to Minho, and the dark-haired boy nods.

“We’ll be fine, shank. Pretty sure I can take this one’s weight just fine,” he says, smirking down at Alby, who just rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

Newt and Thomas watch them leave, and it isn’t until the medjacks have come out to help with Alby that Newt looks at Thomas.

“You saved them,” he says.

“Not really,” Thomas responds, suddenly nervous for reasons he doesn’t know why. “I mean, Alby was passed out for most of it, but Minho was-.”

He’s cut off by Newt pulling him into a tight hug. Thomas freezes instantly, the sudden warmth against his body and arms wrapped around his neck startling him. But he slowly relaxes after a couple seconds, curling his own arms around Newt’s back, and guiltily enjoying the feeling of the blonde’s body curved into his own.

“Thank you,” Newt whispers into his ear. He sniffs, hugging Thomas tighter for a moment longer than probably necessary. “Thank you for bringing them back.”

 

-

 

It’s not too long after the blonde leaves his sight, heading towards the homestead, that Thomas feels a weight settle on his shoulders, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He realizes on his way back to his hammock that he hasn’t eaten since lunch the day before, but the aching behind his eyes tells Thomas that he won’t make it through a meal without passing out.

Chuck is sitting on his own hammock when Thomas gets there, grinning wide and toothy. Thomas manages a tired smile back, genuinely happy to see Chuck, but more than exhausted enough  _ not  _ to feel like chatting with anyone. 

He lays down in his hammock, answering some of Chuck’s hurried questions, like  _ what was the maze like,  _ and  _ did you guys see a griever,  _ and  _ how cool did it feel to come out of the maze _ .

Eventually Chuck seems to run out of steam

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there right when the doors opened.”  _ He must be a heavy sleeper to sleep through the doors opening,  _ Thomas thinks. “I tried to stay up all night with Newt, but I think I fell asleep a few hours in.”

_ Newt stayed up all night? _

The thought brings a small amount of happiness up into Thomas’ chest, but he pushes it away, trying to listen to Chuck without his eyelids drooping.

“...scared, but I knew. I knew you guys could do it.” There’s a quiet moment, and it feels like Chuck is looking for the right words. “I’m really glad you guys are okay.”

The words make Thomas smile. He drifts off to sleep, hoping Chuck heard his muttered  _ Thanks  _ _ Chuck, I’m glad too _ , before Thomas had succumbed to the darkness.

 

-

 

Thomas wakes in a room he knows he’s not supposed to be in. But it’s dark, and the voices he hears are faint, so the situation in which he found himself here is lost on him.

“...sure you want to do this?” The first voice is apprehensive, cautious, like the person is trying not to startle a rabid dog.

A harsh sigh. “I can’t let him do this to himself.”

“He’s going to hate you for it. I think he already does.” 

A pause. “Do  _ you _ hate me for it?”

Silence.

“It will be better. I promise, this is the better way.”

“Okay.” The first voice again.

“I’ll find a way, Chuck. We always do.” 

 

-

 

“Greenie!”  Thomas startles awake. Disoriented by the noise and his own sudden consciousness, Thomas wobbles in the hammock, and, while trying to corrects his balance, puts too much weight on the right side. He falls down to the ground in heap, groaning as his body protests vehemently. The maze had definitely left it’s own bruises and aches on Thomas’ body, and he is surely feeling them all right now.

“You’re a real heavy sleeper, aren’t you Greenie?” A familiar voice says. Thomas rubs his eyes, trying to shake the blurriness from his vision. He finally looks up from his place on the ground, seeing Minho’s smirking face right above him. A faint blush rushes up to Thomas’ cheeks.

Minho raises an eyebrow, reaching out a hand to Thomas, who takes it hastily. 

Wiping the dirt off of his clothes self-consciously, Thomas asks, “Did I sleep past lunch or something?”

“No,” Minho begins, “I mean, yeah, lunch is over, but that’s not why I’m here collecting you.” He flashes grin filled with teeth.

“So why are you collecting me then?”  Minho starts off in the other direction, and Thomas hurries to catch up with him.

“We’re having a Gathering.” He turns to Thomas quickly. “And before you ask a bunch of stupid questions, a Gathering is like a group meeting with all of the Keepers, and usually Newt and Alby.”

“So why do they want me there?”

“You...might be in a bit of trouble.”

“What?” Thomas exclaims, his voice cracking embarrassingly loudly.

If Minho notices, he doesn’t comment. “Don’t yell at me for anything, I’ve been arguing all day to try and get them to stop being idiots, but no luck.” His voice lowers, “Look, I’m not even supposed to be tellin’ you this klunk, okay? So just be a little quieter before we’re both in trouble.”

Thomas nods. “So what’s gonna’ happen to me?”

“Nothing. Newt’s a fair guy, a good leader; he’s not gonna’ let them kick you out of the Glade for something stupid like this,” Minho scoffs, kicking a rock as they continue to walk.

The words register slowly in Thomas’ mind and shiver of fear runs down his spine. “Kick me out of the Glade?”

Minho grimaces. “May have said a bit too much there. But it’s not gonna’ happen, so stop stressing.” He must see the worry on Thomas’ face, because he stops them, putting a hand on Thomas’ arm and looking him in the eye when he says, “I mean it Greenie, you’ll be fine.”

They get to the homestead a few minutes later and, before Minho opens the door, he gets right up close to Thomas’ ear and whispers, “Don’t talk a lot, alright? Gally’s already pissed enough as it is, probably wanna’ leave all the calming-people-down stuff to Newt. He’s usually pretty good at that.” Thomas shivers, trying not to watch the way Minho’s muscles in his back move as he walks into the room, Thomas following closely behind.

The room was filled with chatter when him and Minho had entered, but goes silent almost immediately once the Keepers see Thomas. The soundless room is unnerving, to say the least, so Thomas finds a place to sit down next to Minho, hoping the guys will find something better to do than stop and stare at the back of his head.

Thankfully, Newt chooses that moment to walk in, and the attention immediately turns to him.  Thomas’ eyes travel to Newt’s bare shoulders and upper back, exposed now because of the loose tank top he’s wearing, as soon as he sees him, the lean muscle there making a warm blush rise in his cheeks. But then he looks to Newt’s face, sees the red-rimmed eyes and the clenched jaw, and feels a spike of guilt at his initial reaction. He shakes himself out of it and waits for Newt to say what he’s come in to say.

“Where’s Alby?” Asks one of the boys, standing up to full height. Thomas recognizes him quickly as the Keeper of the builders, and the one who had made Thomas not want to ever be a builder. He’s tall and broad, dark hair cut short and a permanent scowl resting on his lips.

Newt narrows his eyes, mouth curling into a frown. “We’re not talkin’ about Alby right now-.”

“Well maybe we should be!” The same guy cuts him off. Thomas can see the annoyance in Newt’s expression, and he’s sure it’s obvious to everyone else in the room as well. But, the Gladers are curious about their leader, as is Thomas, so they sit and stare at the blonde until he sighs in defeat.

“Alby went to sleep after we got back,” Newt starts, standing up straight, face going blank of emotion, “and we haven’t been able to wake him up. But before you shanks start panicking like a bunch of bloody babies, remember that none of you would be that keen to show up to a Gathering if you had just more than twelve hours with a broken leg in the maze. Good that?”

A murmur travels through the group, but it slowly quiets as Newt waits in silence at the front of the room. The tall boy sits down once again, and Newt lets out a heavy breath.

“Great. Minho, you mind telling us what happened last night?”

As Minho explains it, he makes Thomas sound like he had a more active role in saving Minho and Alby than he did. It makes Thomas a little uncomfortable; being put on a pedestal with over dramatized details about his night in the maze, but he doesn’t dare speak up about it, scared of the consequences he might face if he does. He resolves to talk to Minho about it sometime later, if Thomas isn’t Banished by nightfall.

“So what do you think of a punishment for the Greenie then, Minho?” Newt’s face stays carefully blank, and the inability to read the blonde’s expression makes Thomas more nervous than he wants to be.

“When Alby and I both wanted to give up, Thomas convinced us to try.” Minho glances over at Thomas, and turns back to Newt. “When we were cornered by grievers, and again when the grievers had cornered  _ me _ , Thomas had thought of a way to get us out when I couldn’t. So, I don’t think Thomas should get a punishment at all.” Minho pauses, leaning back in his chair. “In fact, I think Thomas should be a runner.”

Everyone starts talking at once, a couple, one notably the tall guy from earlier, are shouting their own disagreeances. Thomas keeps his head down, not wanting to give the boys something to yell at, but also hiding his shocked expression.

Newt waves his arms around until he get mist everyone’s attention. “Okay, okay. You’ll all have your own bloody turns.” He raises an eyebrow. “Gally?”

The tall boy,  _ Gally _ , makes a show of standing up and facing the crowd. He raises his arms, spreading them wide in a half circle around his body. “What is one thing we’ve had here since the very beginning?” Thomas sees Minho roll his eyes in his peripheral vision. “Our three rules. Do your job. Don’t hurt another Glader. And don’t go into the maze. We have banished people for breaking our rules.” Gally turns to look at Newt. “So why are we stopping now?”

Newt answers, “No one’s ever been banished for going out into the maze.” The  _ because they’ve never come back  _ is left unsaid.

Gally pushes on, “But we have banished people for breaking the other two rules. So why is he the exception?” He points an arm out a Thomas, who is reminded heavily why he hadn’t liked this guy in the first place when he locks eyes with Gally, and the boy sneers back at him. Thomas grinds his teeth together to stop himself from saying anything.

“He saved mine and Alby’s lives,” Minho says, and Thomas has a momentary feeling of gratitude.

Gally turns toward the Keepers again. “So he’s allowed to break rules now, just because he did something good?” With his finishing statement, he lowers himself back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

Newt nods. “Frypan, what do you think?”

From the back of the room, a familiar stocky-looking boy with deep black skin says, “I think we need to make sure everyone knows and understands that we have rules for a reason, but I also don’t think that the Greenie deserves to be banished for helping people.”

As the rest of the Keepers speak, Thomas finds himself gritting his teeth more and more. It’s apparent that Gally had obviously got in the ear of a lot of people, or that most of the Gladers  _ still  _ don’t trust Thomas, because many of the Keepers say the same thing that Gally had.  _ We’ve only known him for a couple of days, how can we trust him _ and  _ he broke a main rule, he deserves to be punished  _ are two points that come up a lot during the other Keepers’ speeches. There are only two other people, other than Minho, who say they believe that Thomas shouldn’t be punished. Thankfully, Gally is the only one to imply that he should be banished, and that makes Thomas feel a little better.

When all the boys are finally done talking, a silence settles around the group, all looking at Newt for the final call. Minho keeps twitching his leg, and Thomas takes that as a sign of nervousness. The blonde rolls his shoulders back, addressing the room, and, as he opens his mouth, Thomas already knows what he’s going to say.

“The Greenie will be punished.”

The silence breaks instantly, some people protesting or whooping loudly. A skinny boy named Jack that had spoken in Thomas’ favour shouts, “C’mon, Newt!”

The blonde’s jaw sets. “Slim it!” He yells, and, miraculously, the Gladers listen and become quiet. “The greenie will be punished, because he broke our rules, and we have rules for a reason.” Newt’s eyes find Thomas’ for the first time during the Gathering. “One night in the Slammer, no food. And then, you’re starting tomorrow morning as a runner.” An uproar between the Keeper’s start once again, but Newt speaks over them. “Yes we have rules, but when new situations happen, we have to adjust. So Greenie broke a rule, so he gets punished, but he also spent a night in the maze, and helped save two people that were in there with him. Is all of that good stuff thrown away just because he broke one rule? A rule, mind you, that he broke to  _ save  _ Alby and Minho. I don’t think so.”

A shout from Gally gets Thomas’ attention, “Newt! Are you talking klunk right now?”

“Alby’s not here, so I’m in charge right now. Do I have to remind you shanks of that?” Newt looks around the room. When no one speaks up against him, he continues, “Great. Greenie, you’ll meet us in this room right before dinner time, okay? You’ll serve your punishment tonight.”

 

-

 

Thomas is the last one to leave the homestead, walking out the door well after the rest of the gladers had left. He had wanted to avoid their narrowed eyes and judging looks, but as he steps outside, he notices that there’s one person that he can’t (and doesn’t really want to) avoid.

“Hey, Newt,” Thomas says. The blonde is leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The blank look that he had during the Gathering is gone, replaced by a small frown, and Thomas feels a small amount of relief at this.

“If you want an apology-,” Newt starts.

“You were doing your job.” Thomas shrugs, not bothered by the punishment. If you had asked him, he had been expecting something worse. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Minho and I are gonna’ go check up on Alby.”

“How is he?” 

Newt presses his lips together. “About as well as you think.”

Thomas nods, gesturing to the homestead. “Can I go with you to see him?”

Newt studies him for a second. “Yeah, you can,” he agrees finally, “but you’ll probably get taken to the Slammer right after, though. Gally’s really itchin’ to throw you in there.”

“What’s his problem?”

“He doesn’t like change. He thinks you’re someone to be suspicious of.”

“Do you think that?” Newt doesn’t answer for a second, and it makes Thomas worry a bit that he has to think about his answer.

“I-,” Newt starts, but is cut off when Minho jogs up to them, knocking into the blonde’s shoulder.

“Hey, you want me to grab you some food from Fry and meet you there? I need to go talk to him about something anyway.”

A small smile graces Newt’s lips. “Yeah Minho, that’d be great.” The dark haired boy nods, saluting the two of them before jogging to the other side of the homestead, where Thomas guesses a second entrance to the kitchens are.

“Didn’t eat lunch?” He asks Newt, feeling his own stomach start to rumble.

“Haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. Was too busy worryin’ about you slintheads, and trying to get everyone to calm the hell down when you guys got back this morning.” He starts walking toward the door, and Thomas follows in step. “S’probably why you didn’t see me at lunch.”

“I wasn’t there either,” Thomas says. “I went right to my bed and slept until Minho came and got me.”

“Great,” Newt laughs bitterly. “Of course I give the hero a shucking punishment without any food after he already hasn’t eaten in over a day.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Thomas adds, “and I’m not a hero.”

Before Newt can protest this, Minho walks into the room, plate stacked high with food in his hand. “Here you go, Blondie.” He hands it to Newt, who sits down in the closest chair to Alby, and starts stuffing it into his mouth. Minho laughs, sitting down in the chair beside him. “How’s it feel to finally be away from your adoring fans, Newt?”

“Slim it, Minho,” the blonde says through the pile of potatoes in his mouth.

“Fans?” Thomas asks curiously, sitting down in the chair across the two of them.

“Gally and his gang of builders,” Minho explains. “Wouldn’t stop following Newt around after we got back.”

“What were they trying to do?”

Minho smirks. “Make sure Newt knew exactly what they thought about you breaking our rules.”

“Gally may be a slinthead,” Newt says, and Thomas notices the long lines of his neck as he swallows. “But you know all he’s doing is trying to protect us.”

“Even if he’s being a shuckface about it,” Minho says resignedly, and Newt shrugs.

One of the medjacks (Jeff, Thomas thinks his name is) comes into the room then, giving the three of them a nod before moving behind the curtain in the opposite corner of the room. Thomas wonders idly who could have been hurt since he ran into the maze, and then he remembers the girl.

“Any new updates on her?” Thomas asks Minho, who shrugs.

“Still unconscious.”

“With everything with the maze, I forgot she was even here.”

“Yeah,” Minho’s face goes pinched. “A lot of weird stuff has been happening lately.”

Newt’s eyes dart to Thomas’ before quickly looking away. Minho doesn’t notice the exchange.

“You could say that,” Newt says. There’s a knock, and Gally walks into the room,  not waiting for anyone to answer the door.

“Hey Greenie,” he says. “Punishment time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos make my day! thanks for reading!


	6. ክፈት

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Am I just gonna’ have to be constantly waking you up for your entire life?” Minho’s voice sounds from above him, and Thomas would be rolling his eyes if he felt like he had any moisture left in them at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter six!! almost half way through everyone!

Gally leads him to the Slammer, but, surprisingly, doesn’t say a single word to Thomas. He locks the door, turns around, and walks away silently. Thomas wonders what his deal is for a minute, but ultimately decides to be happy about being ignored by the boy.

The Slammer itself is a little more than a giant hole in the ground with long, skinny branches tied together to make a makeshift roof. It has a crude bench-like object carved into the ground, but besides that, the Slammer is empty. 

Thomas spends the next few hours completely bored, fidgeting uneasily until he finally has to stand up and pace the length of the cell. When the constant movement doesn’t cure his restlessness,  Thomas sits back down on the bench, trying to focus on his memories instead. Small bits and pieces of his dreams have been coming back to him and he wonders if he thinks hard enough about them, then maybe he’ll remember something more.

He starts with what he can remember from the two dreams. A woman’s voice,  _ we’re  _ saving _ people,  _ the same girl, speaking again to a different person, asking them if they hate her for what they’ve done.

_ Theresa _ , his mind supplies.

Thomas’ blood immediately runs cold. His eyes snap open and he stands, pulling at his hair with a shaky hand as he remembers.

_ It’s Theresa; the girl in my memories, the girl who came up in the box the day after I did, the girl who- _

There’s a knock, and it pulls Thomas completely out of his lost memories. He looks up, a feeling of surprise running through him once he realizes it’s dark out. There’s a figure standing next to the opening of the Slammer, peering inside one of the wide holes at Thomas.

“Chuck?”

The boy smiles. “Hey Thomas. I brought you some stuff.” He’s holding something large and circular in his hand, but Thomas can’t quite make it out from where he’s standing.

“Chuck, shouldn’t you be in bed?” Thomas questions, taking a step forward.

“Probably, but those klunkheads sent you in here without any food, and you didn’t eat after you guys came back this morning, so you must be pretty hungry.” Chuck holds out the thing in his hand, and Thomas realizes that it’s a plate full of food, stocked three layers highs with what Thomas remembers as the same foods that Newt was eating when they went to visit Alby.

“You could get in trouble for this, Chuck.” But Thomas can feel his mouth watering, and he reaches out for the food subconsciously. Chuck laughs and hands him the plate. Thomas has to stick his arms and head out of the Slammer to get at the food, but he doesn’t really care, his face full of pork chops before he can even get a  _ thank you  _ out.

Chuck doesn’t seem too offended, if the way he laughs at Thomas’ messy eating is anything to go by. “Not if no one finds out. Now eat quickly, I gotta’ get this plate back to the kitchen before Frypan goes to bed, or he’ll be out for my blood.” Nodding, Thomas stuffs another forkful into his mouth. The multitude of food burns on its way down his throat, but just grabs more.

Chuck hands him a glass of water next (which is gone in a matter of seconds), and says, “So there’s a lot of rumours going around about what happened at the Gathering…”

“I get one night like this,” Thomas answers the unsaid question, swallowing down the food in his mouth before continuing, “and then tomorrow I get trained to be a runner.”

Though Thomas can’t see much of him, he still notices Chuck’s widening eyes at his statement. “They’re letting you be a runner?” Thomas nods, finishing off his plate and handing it back to Chuck. “That’s so cool! You’ll be great at it, I know you will be.”

“Thanks a lot, Chuck,” Thomas says, letting the sincerity and gratitude he feels slip into his voice. “I mean it.”

Thomas can see the white of Chuck’s teeth as he beams. “No problem. I’ll see you after your big day tomorrow?”

“Sure will. Now get to sleep.”

 

-

 

“I’ll see you soon, you know that.”

“Not for another three years.”

“Yeah, and then we’re gonna figure this shit out together, all of us. We’ll solve the maze and get out, and then it’ll all be worth something.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it will, Tommy.”

 

-

 

Thomas wakes up gasping for breath, confused why the lost memory in his dream felt so much like a nightmare.

“Tommy?” Whispers a voice, startling Thomas. He looks to where Chuck was hours before, but it’s even darker than it was then, and Thomas can’t see a single thing.

“Newt? Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Couple minutes, maybe.” Newt sounds sheepish. “I brought you some food.” He pauses, and when Thomas doesn’t respond right away, he continues hastily, “It’s not much, but I thought since you hadn’t eaten…”

Thomas can still feel the fullness in his stomach from earlier, and the thought of eating another thing makes him want to throw up. “Uh, Chuck brought me some food earlier…”

“Oh,” Newt says, “yeah, of course.”

Thomas backtracks, “I always have room for more-.”

“It’s all good, Tommy.”

“Are you alright, Newt?” Thomas asks, wishing more than anything that he could see his friend.

“I’m great,” Newt responds, and pauses, seeming to rethink the answer. “Lots of things have been happening recently. Just, tires a guy out, y’know?”

Thomas nods, forgetting, for a moment, that Newt can’t see him either. “I know you’ve only known me for a few days, and this is going to seem pretty weird, but if you ever need to talk to someone-.”

“Yeah, Tommy,” Newt cuts him off, his voice sounding hoarse, “have a good night.” He leaves, and Thomas is left in silence.

 

-

 

There’s blackness, and through the blackness comes noise.

“What are you doing?”

“Hey, Thomas.”

“Where are you going?” Silence. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“Listen, Tommy-.”

“They’ll catch you, you know they will.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? Why do we need to be caught?” Why can’t we just leave? It feels a lot like we’re being raised as pigs for slaughter here.”

“You guys know what we’re doing here, why we’re here. We’re going to save people-.”

“Come with us.”

“What?”

“I don’t think-.”

“You’ve been here just as long as us, and I know you want to leave too. Ever since you started helping design that bloody maze, we’ve seen you change. Now all you care about are the rules, and the puzzles you’re making, and what Ava thinks about you. Come with us Tommy, and it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. You’ll be free. We all will be.”

“Okay.” 

-

 

“Greenie!” Thomas groans, throwing an arm over his face and rubbing his eyes. Somehow, over the course of the night, he had ended up sprawled out on the floor of the Slammer, and to Thomas it feels like all three years worth of the dirt in the cell had gotten into his eyes, they’re so dry.

“Am I just gonna’ have to be constantly waking you up for your entire life?” Minho’s voice sounds from above him, and Thomas would be rolling his eyes if he felt like he had any moisture left in them at all.

“In your dreams.”

Minho gasps theatrically. “Oh so he does have some sass in him!”

Feeling like he’s finally able to open his eyes, Thomas sits up and squints and Minho, noticing their still-dark surroundings. “Aren’t you supposed to wait until sunrise to let me out?”

“Sure am. Thought you might be lonely though, being in here by yourself all night.” He has a glint in his eye, like he knows that Thomas had visitors the night before, and the insinuation in his voice makes Thomas’ cheeks heat.

“That’s…” Thomas coughs, “nice of you.”

Minho smirks. “Wouldn’t want the little Greenbean to get too lonely.”

When the sun rises a few minutes later, Minho opens up Thomas’ cell. They head deeper into the woods behind the hammocks and into a small concrete building with a locked metal door. Thomas doesn’t have much time to look around the place, as Minho quickly grabs him some shoes and a small backpack and shoo’s him out room.

Newt is waiting for them at the doors, his under-eyes dark and a scowl on his face. Minho grins when he sees the blonde.

“Here to give us a nice warm send off, Newt?”

“Slim it. I’m still bloody exhausted.” The doors start to open, and Thomas notices that there are only two other runners, both at the North door. 

“You ready over there, Greenie?” Minho questions.

“Where are the others?” Thomas asks.

“They quit, yesterday after the Gathering,” Newt answers, and when Thomas turns to look at him, he face is blank.

“Because of me?”

“Something like that.”

“May have something to do with Gally gettin’ into their ears, too,” Minho chimes in. He bumps Thomas’ shoulder. “Time to go. See you after, Newt.”

The blonde nods his head once. “Don’t pull a stunt like last time, and maybe you will.”

 

-

 

They take a lunch fairly early, and Thomas scarfs down a ham sandwich while him and Minho are resting against one of the walls.

“We’re not gonna’ go super far today, we never do with the newbies. It’s better if you guys get used to it in small doses,” Minho is saying in between bites of his own food. “Just remember that running the maze is all about timing. The better you are at staying on task and having good time management, the better you’ll be at this job Greenie.”

“Are you ever gonna’ stop calling me Greenie?” Thomas speaks up.

“Are you ever gonna’ remember your shucking name?” Minho snarks, “Maybe then I’ll call you somethin’ different.” 

“Didn’t you hate being called Greenie when you first got here?”

“Jokes on you, I never was a greenie.” Minho licks the last of his meal from his fingers, and Thomas has to fight down his blush. “I was one of the original 32 guys that got sent up here three years ago.”

“That’s a pretty big group of guys,” Thomas doesn’t mean for the comment to sound so suggestive, but it comes out that way anyways. Minho just winks back at him.

“Yeah and we were all big scaredy cats, too. Tensions were high, so there was  _ a lot _ of fighting and running around for the first few days.” The smirk slips from Minho’s face. “We were down to 22 by the end of the first week.”

Thomas wonders how it must feel,  seeing so many people who you’ve grown to live with, watching them die over the years. “Who was all with you?”

“That’s still here now?” Minho asks, and Thomas nods. “Alby, Newt, and Gally.”

Thomas isn’t expecting such a low number, and his surprised expression probably shows just that. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. We got a lot better at stayin’ alive after that, as you can tell, but that first month wasn’t pretty.” Minho glances down at his watch and stands. “Time to start heading back, Greenie.”

 

-

 

The rest of Thomas’ day passes quickly. They return from the maze just after lunch, and Thomas has the rest of the day to himself. He spends most of his free time with Chuck, talking with the boy while he works in the kitchen as his job as a slopper, Thomas occasionally stepping in to help as well. Unfortunately, Chuck’s on dish duty for the night, so Thomas isn’t able to sit with him during dinner. 

So he sits alone for the first few bites of his meal until Newt walks in, Minho in tow, and plops himself down right beside him. Thomas smiles, and is about to greet the two of them before he sees the scowls they both having resting on their faces.

Minho slips into the seat across from Thomas. “You know how it looks, right, Newt?”

“I don’t bloody care how it looks, do I, Minho?” Newt snaps back, and Thomas raises his eyebrows at the sharp tone.

Leaning across the table, Minho grits out, “I’m just saying, some of the guys aren’t to keen on it.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Thomas blurts out, cursing himself when they both turn his way, still looking plenty angry.

Newt glances down at Thomas’ half-empty plate. “You done?” Thomas nods quickly, and Newt grabs his wrist. “Come take a walk with me.”

“That’s not gonna’ help anything,” Minho says through his teeth, but Newt ignores him, pulling Thomas out of the homestead. He can’t help but look back and see the gladers eyes on them as they leave.

Newt leads him to the forested area behind the hammocks, near where Minho had showed him the map room, but deeper in. Thomas remembers from his tour with Alby that this part of the Glade is called the deadends, and the only thing thing that is back here are graves. 

Thankfully, Newt isn’t leading him to their makeshift cemetery. Instead, they stop in an area with densely packed trees, where the roots are so overgrown that it’s hard to walk without tripping. Newt lets go of Thomas’ wrist, taking a step forward and facing away from Thomas.

“Don’t mind Minho and I. We just got into a stupid fight,” Newt says, and Thomas can hear the tension in his voice, can see the way Newt’s is coiled up, like he’s ready to run away at an instant.

“What’s going on?” Thomas asks, taking a careful step forward and slowly placing his hand on Newt’s shoulder. Instead of flinching away like Thomas expects, Newt almost melts from the touch; slouching over as all the tension leaves his body. 

“They think I’m playing favourites.” The words are muttered so softly that Thomas almost doesn’t hear them. 

“What?”

Newt turns, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Thomas can see the teeth marks in Newt’s bottom lip from how hard he had been biting at it. “They think that we’re friends, and that means I gave you a weaker punishment at the Gathering than I should have. They think I’m not fit to lead because I have a bias.” Newt shakes his head, looking to the forest floor. “Alby was always good at removing himself from the situation; not letting personal relationships get in the way of making decisions.”

“Newt, do you actually believe what those shuckfaces are trying to tell you?” Thomas tries to step forward again, hand outstretched, but Newt takes a step back. Thomas deflates, bringing his arm back down to his side and saying softly, “I saw you during the Gathering. You listened to what every person had to say, and you made a decision that you thought would best help everyone.”

“Did I?” Newt presses his lips together. “The thing is, Thomas, is that I don’t  _ know _ if I’m judging things without a bias. I like you, Tommy, and I’m friends with you, and I don’t know if my decision making is being compromised because of it.” The self-deprecating laugh makes Thomas wince. “I’m not a leader like Alby is. I’m much better at being in the background.”

“That’s not true. Those guys listen to you, Newt,” Thomas says, but Newt shakes his head again, obviously not agreeing with what Thomas has to say. So he tries something else, “I’m sorry this is happening because of me.”

“Don’t be. If what you’ve been telling me is the truth, then you don’t have anything to do with any of the stuff that’s been happening.”

The truth of the statement hits Thomas like a bus, guilt flooding his body. 

_ You feel guilty about not telling him about your memories or Theresa, but you never will, will you? You want to do it all by yourself, figure it out, solve the puzzle. You want all the glory, _ Thomas’ traitorous mind tells him.

His thoughts terrify him, and so does him not being able to say that they’re wrong. “How did you and Alby become the leaders?”

Newt looks up in surprise. “That’s a three year long story, Tommy.”

“We’re already here.” Thomas shrugs.

The blonde studies him for a moment, like he’s trying to gauge if Thomas is being sincere. He must make a decision, since his next words are, “I’ll give you the short version then. I was a runner, as my first ‘job’ here. I did it for over two years and then...there was a accident.” Newt pinches his face. “I hurt my leg and I couldn’t run anymore. Could barely even walk for a while. Alby, who had been the second-in-command for a while until our past leader had died, decided that I should lead with him, since I had nothing else to do with my bum leg.”

“I’m sure that’s not the only reason he decided that you’d be fit for the job.”

Newt shrugs, lowering himself to sit on the ground. “He brought it up during a Gathering, and they had a vote.”

“Let me guess.” Thomas sits beside him, knocking his elbow into Newt’s side. “Unanimous decision to make Newt the second-in-command?” Newt smiles timidly at him.

“All but one.”

“Gally?”

“Minho,” Newt says, and Thomas can’t help his shocked expression. Newt chuckles at it. “He didn’t want me to leave the runners; was convinced that I’d get better and be able to run again in a few months time. I’m glad I didn’t wait for that.”

“Still can’t run?” Thomas questions quietly.

“Can, but it hurts like hell.” Newt stretches the leg in question out, eyeing it. “Even standin’ on it for too long will make it painful.”

Thomas doesn’t know what to say to that, so they sit in a comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the forest around them. His mind wanders back to Newt and their conversation the night before, and he wonders if his insecurities about having to be a leader are why he acted so off.

“Anyway,” Newt says suddenly, slapping Thomas’ knee and breaking him out of his thought, “good talk, Tommy. Better get back before they think we’re makin’ out or somethin’.”

_ Because that would be the worst possible thing they could have thought,  _ Thomas thinks. They both stand and start heading back towards the homestead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! comments and kudos make a writer's day! :)


	7. 發現

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is why the grievers stopped,” Thomas realizes, thinking back to their night in the maze. “They wanted to make us think that something had gotten their attention; that Alby had woken up. So we would go after him.”  
> Minho looks back at him and nods grimly. “They wanted to lead us away from here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! we're officially half way through this story! i've started writing the final chapter to this fic, and once that is over i'll go to weekly updates. i've also completed the full outline for the sequel, so that's also exciting lol.  
> this chapter is the calm before the storm, the last real bit of piece before shit starts to go down, so i hope u enjoyed it while it lasted lmao.

The next few days go by quickly, a combination of waking up early and learning about the maze, mapping the maze, running the maze, and asking a lot of stupid questions about the maze. Thomas is surprised Minho isn’t as annoyed at him about his questions as much as Newt was.

Thomas doesn’t see the blonde often throughout those day; he’s busy running, and when he’s not running he’s visiting Chuck, scarfing down food, or taking naps. Newt is also pretty busy, and Thomas soon realizes why they have two leaders in the Glade after Newt comes to dinner one night, under eye bags so heavy that it makes it look like he hasn’t slept in days.

This particular day, four days into Thomas’ training, while Thomas and Minho are on their lunch, Thomas remembers a conversation he wanted to have with Minho for some time now.

After a lull in their small talk, Thomas asks, “Why’d you talk about me like that?”

“Like what?” Minho doesn’t look up from his food.

“During the Gathering,” Thomas explains, “you made me sound like I was some sort of hero or something.”

“Would you rather me have lied and said nothing?” Minho questions, lifting an eyebrow. Thomas huffs in annoyance.

“I wish you would have told them the truth,” he says, “or at least told Newt the truth.”

“What wasn’t true about it? _You_ thought of the plan to string Alby up, _you_ were the one to convince us to try to survive, _you’re_ the one who told me to climb and jump when I was frozen stiff. Take my gratitude, Greenie. You won’t get it very often.” 

“Oh,” Thomas says, a bit astounded by Minho’s speech, “thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it,” Minho grumbles, but Thomas can tell he’s trying to hold back a grin.

 

-

 

“It’s a shucking mess,” Chuck says as Thomas walks into the room. The smell alone is enough to make Thomas want to gag, not counting the piles of animal guts, blood, and unusable meat piled on the floor.

“Pretty disgusting,” Thomas agrees, covering his nose.

Chuck pulls on a pair of gloves that almost reach his armpits. Thomas wants to laugh, but he somehow holds it in. “Cleaning up after Winston and his gang is my _least_ favourite job, even more that washing dishes.”

“I can imagine why.”

Thomas watches as Chuck dumps the animal remains in a bucket, and grabs a mop. Thomas, taking pity on his friend, grabs his own mop, and together they start to clean the blood-soaked floors. Thomas figures out pretty quickly that it’s impossible for him to hold his breath over a minute, and quickly pulls his shirt over his nose and mouth.

“What do you think you would do, if you saw your parents right now? Do you think you’d know it was them?” Chuck asks. He doesn’t look at Thomas, so Thomas can’t see his expression, but he’s guessing he wants a thoughtful answer. Unfortunately, Thomas isn’t sure what his answers to the questions would be. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s not even sure if he’d ever want to meet his parents, not if they had any hand in where he is now.

So, Thomas answers truthfully, “I don’t know, Chuck.” The boy seems to be disappointed in this, so Thomas quickly asks, “What would you do?”

“I think I’d know, even if I don’t remember, y’know? I think some things you just never forget from the back of your mind. But I’d definitely go up and hug my mom and dad, and I’d probably cry a little bit, but you don’t need to tell anybody that.”

Thomas finds himself not surprised at all by Chuck’s answer. “Of course.”

“I hope my parents are waiting on the other side of the door that leads us out of here,” Chuck wrings his mop out into the bucket, looking up at Thomas with kind eyes. “I hope yours are there, too.”

 

-

 

The next day, while Thomas and Minho are running the maze, they come across a familiar passageway that Thomas immediately recognizes.

“Hey, isn’t this the same path we were in that night?” Thomas asks, slowing to a job.

Minho slows almost to a complete stop, slowly saying, “Yeah, it is…”

“Minho?”

He turns to Thomas, confused. “It shouldn’t be open right now. It’s only be five days…”

_And the maze resets every eight days._

They continue to walk, Minho leading as Thomas follows a few steps behind. The passage turns off to the right at the end, and as they turn the corner, Thomas notices something.

“Is that a door?” He asks, pointing to a large, half circle on the right wall. It has a square screen right in the centre, and there’s nothing else on it. Minho reaches out and taps the screen cautiously. The numbers 0 - 9 appear on the screen, as well as seven small rectangular boxes all in row at the top.

“It’s the same door I found the day you got here. But there weren’t any numbers. I tapped the screen a hundred times times with Alby but nothing happened.” He punches in a couple combinations of random numbers, but the screen just goes blank for a few seconds and resets.

“This is why the grievers stopped,” Thomas realizes, thinking back to their night in the maze. “They wanted to make us think that something had gotten their attention; that Alby had woken up. So we would go after him.”

Minho looks back at him and nods grimly. “They wanted to lead us away from here.”

“So why are we allowed here now?” Thomas wonders out loud.

They both ponder the thought for a moment, before Minho turns to Thomas and says, “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“What?”

“We’ll talk to Newt, and to Alby, once he wakes up. But we don’t wanna’ freak anyone else out just yet.” Minho looks at the door one last time, before starting in the opposite direction. “You don’t know what people do once they think they can get out here. Too much hope can be a bad thing.”

 

-

 

Thomas wakes up to silence in the dead of the night. He’s wide awake, and can’t, for the life of his, figure out why. Until he hears a quiet sob from next to him.

“Chuck?” Thomas calls out softly, not wanting to wake the other gladers “Chuck, are you okay?” When there’s no answer, Thomas gets up from his hammock, quietly walking over to where the other boy is. He puts a hand on Chuck’s hammock, whispering the boy’s name once again

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Chuck whispers back to him, his voice making him sound anything but fine. “It’s just a stupid nightmare. I used to get them a lot when I first got here.” He sits up in his hammock, facing Thomas, who in turn squats down to get at his eye level.

“Do you need anything?” He asks, trying not to sound too much like a concerned mother. “I could get you some water, or if you want to talk about it...” Thomas trails off, leaving the decision up to Chuck. The boy doesn’t choose either, however, and instead decides to pull Thomas into a tight hug, burying his damp face into his shoulder. Thomas wraps his arms around Chuck and pulls him closer, a overwhelming feeling of affection curling around his chest.

“Thanks Thomas,” Chuck whispers shakily into Thomas’ shirt.

“No problem, Chuck,” Thomas says, letting a single tear of his own slip down his cheek.

 

-

 

The next day, after Thomas and Minho have returned from the maze and everyone else is still working on their own jobs, Thomas sneaks away to the med room. He couldn’t explain the reason if anyone asked, and that’s why it feels like he’s doing something wrong. He feels drawn to the girl, to Teresa, and it’s not like anything else he’s felt since he got to the Glade. So he hides from prying eyes, and quietly slips through the back door into the room.

As he enters, his eyes wander to her immediately. She’s sleeping, unconscious in the bed, still and looking less than alive. Thomas walks forward cautiously, eyes trailing over her face, half-there memories of past conversations pushing at his mind. He reaches a hand out, almost in a trance of familiarity, when a hoarse shout from behind him snaps Thomas out of it.

It’s Alby, across the room in his own bed. His eyes are still closed, but he’s moving around a bit, like he’s trying to shake himself out of a bad dream. Thomas goes over to him, checking to make sure he hasn’t hurt himself.

The door leading to the eating area slams open and Minho bursts through, eyes darting around quickly before landing on Thomas.

“Greenie?”

Thomas points to the bed beside him. “It’s Alby, I think he’s waking up.”

Minho glances down at the boy on the bed and nods sharply. “I’m gonna’ go grab Newt, I’ll be right back.” He sprints out of the room before Thomas can even think of a response.

Thomas sighs, turning back to Alby. The boy has his eyes open, and it makes Thomas jump back in shock, knocking over the chair behind him and falling over it.

“Greenie? Is that you?” Alby asks, and his voice is hoarse from lack of use.

Standing up and righting his chair, Thomas starts to say, “Yeah, I was just-.”

And Minho and Newt run back into the room, stopping dead in front of Alby’s bed. Newt’s says a small, _Alby?_ and Minho stands silent, the biggest smile Thomas has ever seen from him spread out happily across his lips. Thomas notices Gally slip into the room, and purses his lips.

“Hey, Newt,” Alby says, coughing, “Minho.” The blonde comes around to Alby’s left side, right next to Thomas, and kneels down on the floor. Alby sits up, wincing as the movement jostles his leg a bit.

“Are you alright?” Thomas asks stupidly. Thankfully, Alby just chuckles.

“Leg hurts,” he explains. He slips his hand into Newt’s that’s resting on the bed. “How’s it healing up?”

“Alright, Clint’s doing all he can for you,” Minho answers, sitting himself down at the end of the bed.

“And the girl?”

“Still asleep,” Minho confirms.

“Well, I trust that your taking care of things around here, Newt,” Alby says to the blonde. Newt smiles softly. “Now, if you guys don’t mind, I’m gonna’ sleep for a bit longer now.”

“Alby,” Newt protests, “you need to eat-.”

“Just a few minutes, I promise.” And he drops back off, hand still gripped tight in Newt’s.

“What’s going on with you, Greenie?” Gally says from the back of the room. From the way Minho rolls his eyes, and Newt ignores him, Thomas guesses that Gally had tagged along when Minho found Newt.

“Gally...” Minho sighs, and Thomas cuts off his next words.

“What are you talking about?”

Gally stands up at full height, puffing his chest out. “You were in here, by yourself, and just by some fluke Alby wakes up?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with Alby!” Thomas cries, feeling defensive. “Why are you always on my case?”

“If you didn’t have anything to do with him,” Gally says, taking a step forward, “why the hell were you in this room?”

The question stops Thomas in his tracts. He doesn’t know what to say, especially under the heat of Gally’s glare. “I…” He trails off.

As if Newt can sense his struggle, he stands and says a firm, “Lay off, Gally.”

Gally whirls around to the blonde, sticking a finger out at him. “And you! You’re always sticking up for this slinthead, and you don’t even know him.”

“Hey,” Minho says, stepping in front of Gally, “don’t talk to him like that.”

“Minho,” Newt sounds exasperated.

“Yeah, what are you gonna’ do about it?” Gally steps forward again, getting into Minho’s face and pointing a finger over Minho’s shoulder at Newt. “I could call your little boyfriend all the names under the damned sun and you wouldn’t do a _single_ thing.”

Anger bubbles under Thomas’ skin, and it takes all he has not to walk over and deck Gally right across the face.

Minho snarls, “You shut your stupid shuck mouth or I’ll-.”

Newt cuts him off, shoving himself between the two of them. “That’s enough out of both of you!” He turns so he’s facing Gally, and shoves at his chest. “Back up, Gally.” When he doesn’t listen, Newt grits his teeth and says it again, voice low and dangerous, “Back. The hell. Up.”

Only then does Gally seem to snap out of it, taking a couple quick steps backwards until he’s well far enough away from Newt and Minho. The tension in the room is high, and it makes Thomas’ skin crawl as the uncomfortable silence grows, and nobody moves.

It’s then when the world decides that everything should go from bad to worse as the girl on the other side of the room begins to cough violently.

Gally and Newt run over to her immediately, the previous argument forgotten as they hover over her, not knowing what to do to try and help.

“What’s wrong with her?” As soon as Minho asks it, the coughing stops, and the girl opens her eyes. They’re a brilliant blue colour, and Thomas stomach clenches as he realizes he’s seen the same eyes in his dreams.

Newt holds out a placating hand to the girl. “Hey, I’m Newt. Don’t panic, you’re safe here-.”

“Thomas,” she says, looking across the room and directly into Thomas’ eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! :)


	8. kim jesteś

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You knew?” Minho says, startled. Newt’s face twists into what Thomas can only describe as an expression of extreme guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii i'm sorry this is two weeks late but bad mental health shit got in the way! sorry to leave everybody on a cliffhanger for so long but I'm back! and now we've moved to weekly updates, so that's fun! hope you guys enjoy. :)

Gally doesn’t give anyone a chance to react before he explodes.

He crosses the room to Thomas in three quick step, grabbing his shirt in his fists and shaking him. Thomas stumbles back, trying to gain traction enough on the ground to be able to push him away, but by then Gally has lifted him high enough off the ground that only his toes graze the floor. 

Gally’s voice is loud, even as he says the words through gritted teeth. “You’re going to tell what the hell is going on here right now.”

Thomas grimaces, struggling to wiggle himself out of Gally’s hold. “I don’t-.”

“Don’t you dare pull that stunt with me, tell me what’s going on!” Gally slams Thomas into the wall, sticking his face right up close to Thomas and sneering.

“He doesn’t know anything Gally!” Thomas hears Newt cry.

Gally drops him, and Thomas sags against the wall. Whirling around, Gally faces Newt and Minho. “The hell he doesn’t! Do you think it’s just a coincidence he was the first to show up after six months? Or that the last time we were sent food was exactly a month before he came? Or that this girl, who we don’t know anything about, comes into the Glade the day after this shank, and she knows who he is? How the hell is that a coincidence Newt? He knows something, or he has something to do with it.” Thomas sees the way Newt’s eyes keep darting to him, his fists clenched by his sides. Minho, on the other hand, stands still arms crossed and staring at Gally with a frown.

“So what the hell are you suggesting, Gally?” Newt asks, though his confidence looks to be wearing thin after Gally’s speech.

“We lock them up! And the runners go and search for this shucking door that Minho saw, and we go from there.” Gally, though he’s no longer yelling, still has a dangerous amount of anger present in his voice.

“There are only two other runners left,” Minho says logically, “you know they all quit after what happened with…”  _ Newt letting me be a runner. _ Thomas finishes.

“You don’t think those shanks would be more interested if we told them we might have a way out? C’mon, Newt, Minho, you were here when we got that shucking note. You know that he has  _ something  _ to do with this. It’s not a coincidence.”

This makes Thomas frown, and he asks, “What are you guys even talking about? What note?”

He’s ignored as Gally appeals to Newt, “Do it; put ‘em in the slammer. Until we can figure out a better option.”

Thomas stands up to his full height. “Is no one going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

This gets their attention, and Minho and Newt share a look. When the seconds tick by, and Newt hasn’t responded to Gally, the Keeper breathes out through his teeth angrily. “You gonna’ tell him? Or should I?”

Newt visibly swallows, eyeing Thomas and biting his lip. He says, slowly, “When we came into the Glade, it was a group of us. Thirty or so. They gave us supplies to do whatever we wanted, to be able to live here without starving and all that. We didn’t have any contact with whoever put us here, no instructions, nothing. Except a note that arrived with the first Greenie.”

“What’d the note say?” Thomas asks, but he can see the blonde is hesitant to reply. “Newt, c’mon.”

Newt leaves the room. The few short seconds that he’s gone are tortuously quiet, as Thomas tries to avoid Gally’s almost manic glare. He wonders if Gally was the only one there with him, if Newt and Minho hadn’t been in the room when Teresa woke up, if Gally would have tried to kill him.

When Newt walks back into the room, he chucks a small object at Thomas, who catches it, cradling it to his chest. “Look for yourself.”

The object is a small piece of paper, tied around the middle by a cord with a dark stone on the end. Thomas unties the cord, unraveling the paper. It reads in dark, handwritten font:

 

**_Your time is limited. Find a way. Thomas is the beginning of the end._ ** **_  
_ ** **_9 46 17 0 3_ **

 

Thomas looks up, finding four pairs of eyes staring at him, gauging his reaction, but his gaze is only on Newt. He says to the blonde, without thinking, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He realizes his mistake a second too late, as Newt’s eyes widen in shock, and both Minho and Gally snap their heads towards him.

“You knew?” Minho says, startled. Newt’s face twists into what Thomas can only describe as an expression of extreme guilt.

Before he can answer, Gally says, his voice shaking with anger, “You knew this whole shucking time that this shank’s name was Thomas, didn’t you?”

Newt flinches, crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect himself from their accusing stares. “Yeah, but I-.”

“You probably told him things too, right?” Gally continues, gesturing wildly with his hands, “like about him being the first greenie in six months, about us not getting supplies? About  _ Ben _ ?”

“He’s not a bad person Gally,” Newt pleads, “he’s not evil like you all seem to think.” Thomas wishes he could take his own words back, wishes that he could remove the guilty expression from Newt’s face, and the betrayed look from Minho’s.

“Yet, even though you’ve only known him a week, you decided to tell him things that he isn’t supposed to know, and keep things that  _ we  _ should know from us.” Gally’s face is red from frustration, and he looks at Newt like he’s disgusted with him. “And now look where we are. A week into what the creators call  _ the end _ , and we didn’t even know it was going on, because you decided it was better to keep the Greenie safe.”

An embarrassed flush coats Newt’s cheeks. He sets his jaw and says, “Well maybe I would have told you if you hadn’t already decided you hated him the minute he was brought up here. How was I supposed to think you would treat him with any inch of respect when everyone around him sneered and turned up their nose?”

Gally closes his eyes, breathing loudly through his nose. When he opens his eyes again, he’s significantly calmer than before, and he looks almost sympathetic towards Newt. He says, softly, “So what do you think the gladers are gonna’ do when they find out that what that note means? And that Greenie’s name is Thomas, and he, same as you, have been hiding this for the entire time he’s been here? Newt, they’re gonna’ hate him more than if you guys had come clean at the beginning. You know what they’re going to assume.” 

_ That I’m working with the creators,  _ Thomas’ mind supplies.

Gally huffs out a breath. “You gave him a death wish. And now, when Alby’s out and you’re supposed to be our leader, you chose him over us. You lied to everyone here because of one man. What kind of person, what kind of  _ leader _ does that?”

Newt goes pale at the words, fists pulled so tight his fingers have gone white. He drops his head to face the floor, hair covering his expression, giving a nod to Gally to signal he understands. Thomas glances over at Minho, who looks indecisive, not sure if he should be concerned for the blonde, or angry at him. Thomas feels dread growing in his stomach.

Gally turns to Thomas, glare settling back on his face. “So we’re locking you up,” he tells Thomas, “and don’t complain about nothing either. It’s the only way to appease everyone without banishing you, and the only way we can keep you safe so you can tell us what you have to do with the creators.”

“And the girl?” Minho asks.

“I have a name,” Teresa says, startling everyone in the room but Thomas. She looks pensive, and Thomas realizes that she’s been listening and taking in their conversation the entire time. Gally must also figure this out, because he grimaces.

“Well would you mind sharing with the class?” He asks. “Because no one here knows it.”

She lifts her eyebrow and looks at Thomas pointedly. Thomas feels his face heat.

“He does?” Minho asks, and, thankfully, doesn’t look all too shocked by this.

Newt, though, looks as though the implication hurts him. “Tommy?” He asks, sounding almost pleading.

“Her name’s Teresa,” Thomas bursts out, and he sees Newt’s face fall further. “But that’s all I know,  _ trust me _ , Newt.”

“Everything?”

Thomas bites the inside of his cheek. “I’ve been getting bits and pieces of some memories back, but that’s it. I promise.” Newt turns away from him, back hunched and arms curled in on himself.

_ You hurt him, _ his mind tells him, and Thomas’ heart aches,  _ he protected you, he got in trouble because of you, he lied to his friends for you, and you were too afraid to tell about anything. _

_ He didn’t tell me everything, either,  _ Thomas throws back meekly, but his heart isn’t in the argument.

“And how are we supposed to believe you?” Gally questions. “We don’t know if you’re working for them.” He turns to Teresa. “Either of you. Lock ‘em both up.”

No one moves for a moment, then Minho takes a couple steps in Thomas’ direction, gesturing to the door. Thomas follows his direction, speechless, and Minho leads him towards the Slammer. He can only guess that Teresa and Newt aren’t that far behind.

Their journey is uncomfortable and silent. Thomas doesn’t tell Minho he’s sorry, because he doesn’t know how to get the words out. He keeps his eyes trained in front of him.

 

-

 

Chuck is the first one to visit. It surprising to Thomas that he has visitors at all, from all the gossip he can only imagine is spreading around the glade. Chuck is quick to question him about it.

“Is it true, what they’re saying? That you and her worked for the people who put us here?” Chuck asks quickly, like he’s trying to get the words out before he loses his nerve. 

Thomas tries not to be annoyed by the question, and answers honestly, “I don’t remember much, Chuck.”

“So is that a yes or a no?”

Sighing, Thomas says, “I don’t know.” He wonders, frustration quickly losing steam as it’s replaced by a heavy sense of uncertainty in him, if things will be different with Chuck, now that he knows the truth.]

And Chuck does seem to be thinking long and hard about Thomas’ answer, face scrunched up and eyes trained on his hands that are settled in his lap. It’s at this moment when Thomas remembers how young Chuck is compared to the majority of the boys in the Glade, and it’s the first time he’s ever really seen his age really play out in his actions. Chuck is indecisive, not knowing whether to trust his new friend, or the other boys he’s only know for six months. Or maybe that’s just Chuck himself, wanting to see the good in everybody.

Chuck comes to a decision. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Thomas. Even if you did help with it, that doesn’t make you a bad person,” he says, and Thomas surprised to find that he expected that answer from Chuck, but hearing it makes tears form in his eyes. He blinks rapidly to keep them from falling.

After a couple minutes of silence, a silence in which Thomas doesn’t know how to fill, Chuck rises, giving a quick look and wave over his shoulder at Thomas before jogging away from the Slammer. Thomas backs up a few steps until his back is against the wall, sliding down it until he’s sitting on the dirt floor.

“He’s nice,” Teresa says, from the opposite corner of the cell. Thomas jumps, forgetting, for a moment, that she had been there the entire time.

“He’s a good kid,” Thomas agrees cautiously. Teresa hadn’t made any conversation at all during their stay in the Slammer together (though Thomas hadn’t made any attempts at conversation either, so he can’t blame her much).

“Are you two close?” She asks. Thomas can see the way her bright eyes flash in curiosity from across the room.

“Yeah. He’s the only one to believe in me, even after this whole thing.” Thomas tells her this automatically, as if she’s someone he trusts. The thought makes him nervous, nervous enough to ask, “How much do you remember of me?”

Teresa doesn’t look too startled by the question. “Bits and pieces,” she says, shrugging. She looks into Thomas eyes. “I remember we used to be close friends, I remember I used to call you Tom…”

“Anything about the maze?” Thomas interrupts, deciding he doesn’t want to hear about their joined past. “Or who put us here?”

“Bits and pieces,” she repeats, but doesn’t go into detail. “What about you?”

“Nothing important,” Thomas answers honestly. “Just some conversations, but I don’t understand them. I remembered your name after a while, and…your eyes, when you woke up.”

Teresa smiles, and the familiarity and warmth behind the expression makes a comfortable heat bubble in Thomas’ chest.

 

-

 

Thomas and Teresa aren’t visited by another person until the next day, when Minho slides into a seated position beside the door to the Slammer.

“Here, Greenie, have some food. Looks like you need it,” Minho says, tilting his head over past Thomas to the other side of the cell. “Give some to Teresa over there, too.” He stretches his arm through the door, two foil-wrapped packages of food held in his hand. 

“You’re on food duty?” Thomas asks, grabbing the packages and handing one to Teresa, who smiles in thanks. Thomas turns away quickly.

When he turns back to Minho, the dark-haired boy is looking between Thomas and Teresa curiously. “I volunteered,” he says after a moment. “Wanted to be able to talk to you about what’s going on.”

Thomas raises his eyebrows, feeling slightly hopeful. “You still trust me?”

“Well I’m a bit ticked off that you threw Newt under the bus,” Minho says matter-of-factly, adding, “but besides that I don’t really have a reason not to.”

“You don’t think I’m a spy sent from the creators?”

“If you are, you’re doing a pretty bad job of it.” Thomas’ face twists, and Minho grins. “Really. You’ve been in the Slammer for about forty percent of your time here, and another twenty percent was devoted to almost getting killed in the maze.”

Thomas concedes; nodding dumbly at Minho’s ability to simplify something that seems so complicated. 

“So what’s happening with Gally?” Teresa asks, standing up beside Thomas. He looks over at her, trying not to be surprised at her forwardness.

Minho narrows his eyes, but, after Thomas’ encouraging nod, answers, “He’s got all the gladers pretty riled up, telling everyone that we think you were sent here by the creators and all that.” He looks at Thomas. “No one’s allowed to see you or speak to you, not that many people want to. Mind you, not everyone has completely joined the anti-Thomas club, but those people are being smart and keeping their mouths shut. Newt most of all.”

“That’s why you’re here instead of him?” Thomas questions, and Minho presses his lips together. He looks off over his shoulder toward the homestead.

“Well, first off,” Minho starts, “he’s upset with you for not telling him everything, but he’s more mad at himself because he got you into more trouble than you needed to be in, and he thinks he let the gladers down.” He shifts his glance to Teresa, and back to Thomas. “Gally’s also watching him like a hawk. The minute he comes near you, Gally’s gonna tell everyone that Newt knew about you the whole time, and it won’t take much for them to believe, since some of them were already suspicious of you two in the first place.”

“And Alby and Newt are just letting this all happen?” Teresa asks. Thomas questions himself on how it is that she learned who their leaders are after only being awake for a short amount of time.

_ Maybe she could hear the med-jacks talking when she was unconscious, and they just mentioned Newt and Alby,  _ Thomas hopes.

Minho looks suspicious too, and gives Teresa a hard stare when he says, “Alby won’t talk to Newt, refuses to see him. He’s pissed that Newt didn’t tell him about Thomas.”

Thomas is surprised by this. Though he didn’t see them interact very much, Newt and Alby  _ seemed _ like such an untouchable duo together. Maybe that was the point.

“And you?” Thomas asks.

Minho sighs. “Newt should have told us, it was the right thing to do. But he was trying to protect you, tryin’ to keep us from panicking until he could find out what it all meant. I can’t say I would’ve done the same, but I’m not gonna’ blame him for doing something he thought was right.” Minho glances around, and leans in close to Thomas. “Newt doesn’t make a lot of close friends, but when he does, he doesn’t let go of them very easy. He’s loyal, and it gets him in trouble when he’s loyal to two different sides and he doesn’t know which one to pick. He always ends up trying to please both.”

Thomas looks at the ground, sighing. “Why are you telling me this, Minho?”

“Because,” Minho says, voice firm and almost commanding-like, “when we break you out of this cell, and we escape from this god forsaken maze, you’ll need to remember it.”

 

-

 

It isn’t until the sun has set later that day that Thomas is visited by Minho again, this time trailed by Newt. Thomas goes to the door of the cell to watch them come towards him, noticing, even in the dark, their shifty eyes and quiet steps.

When they get close enough that Thomas can just make out their faces, he notches an eyebrow at Minho and whispers, half-jokingly, “Here to break me out?”

They both settle on to the ground, careful to glance around themselves to make sure no one is watching. Thomas notices Newt avoiding his gaze.

Minho steals Thomas’ attention. “Not quite.” The dark-haired man glances over at Newt and grins. He knocks an elbow against the blonde's shoulder. “Someone wanted to talk to you and was too scared to come alone.”

Newt shoots him a look. “Oh, bugger off,” he snaps. Minho’s lips thin as his sly smile widens.

“Newt?” Thomas questions before the two of them can get into an argument. The blonde chews hard on his lower lip, studying his hands. Thomas glances at Minho, but he is too busy looking at Newt to notice.

“I’m sorry Tommy, alright?” Newt sighs. He lifts his eyes, and Thomas sees the heavy bags growing under his eyes. He realizes he can see them under Minho’s eyes as well, if he looks close enough. “I didn’t realize it would all go to klunk the way it has, and I didn’t mean to pull you deeper into it that you needed to be.” Newt pauses, wringing his hands together. He continues with, “I wish you woulda’ told me about some of the memories you were remembering, so we could figure everything out together, and maybe I would’ve done something differently.”

Thomas exhales slowly. “It’s okay.”

The blonde’s face screws up into a grimace. “Yeah, you being locked in a bloody cell is _ okay _ .” The self-deprecation is evident in his tone, as is the guilt in his eyes.

“That’s not on you.” Thomas frowns, wanting to reach through the bars and comfort Newt somehow, but restraining himself. “Not everything's a black or white, right or wrong decision, Newt. I didn’t tell you things you deserved to know, too. And I’m sorry for that.”

Silence spreads between the three of them as Newt lowers his gaze away from Thomas once more.

“Speaking of things we need to tell you,” Minho starts with a wry smile, and Thomas shoots him a thankful look, “that door, the one that Alby and I went out looking for, Thomas and I found it again the other day. It asked us to insert some sort of seven digit number code.”

Newt’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “What?” 

“That’s our way out.” Minho grins at the blonde, grabbing his shoulder in excitement. “It must be.”

But Newt doesn’t share his enthusiasm, his eyes bright with the new information, but confused. “But...why is it just appearing now? Unless…” Both Thomas and Minho watch as Newt scrunches his eyebrows together, thinking hard, neither knowing what he’s trying to figure out. Suddenly, like a switch has been flipped, his eyes widen with realization. “ _ Thomas is the beginning of the end. _ ”

Thomas understands immediately. “Oh god.”

“What is it?” Minho asks.

Newt looks at him, an expression akin to grief on his face. “The note…” The blonde explains. “The door only appeared the day Thomas was put here, and the code was probably only activated the day he became a runner.”

Thomas watches as the information washes over Minho, watches as his face falls, and then twists into anger seconds later. “We’ve been running that maze for three years, for no reason,” Minho says, shaking his head in disbelief. “There was no way out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! :)


	9. ਹਮਲਾ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An almost deafening sound hits them so hard Thomas almost falls over from the force of it. A bright light washes over the slammer, illuminating the horror on all of their faces. Thomas knows where it comes from without having to look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh this is one of my favourite chapters so far. and you'll see why in a few minutes lol, i hope you enjoy it!  
> also please make sure you read the tags. they'll be updated for the next couple of chapters.

The next day goes by tortuously slow, and at the end of it Thomas can’t find sleep, his head swimming with thoughts.

Newt, Minho, and he had agreed to keep the new information from any of the other gladers to stall the panic that would ensue, and to hopefully prevent any further scrutiny of Thomas.

He can’t imagine what Minho and Newt must be thinking. The thought alone of believing in and putting all your time into something for three years and then learning that it was all for nothing makes an ache of empathy for his two friends start his his heart.

Thomas is surprised that neither Newt nor Minho have asked about Thomas’ memories. He wonders if the two of them have just forgotten about that piece of information with everything else they have been dealing with, or maybe they are just waiting for Thomas to tell them himself. The guilt of getting Newt in trouble flares up again in Thomas, and he realizes that he hadn’t apologized to the blonde for what had happened in the medical room with Gally. He resolves to apologize to Newt the next time he sees him, explain that he never meant to hurt him, and some of the guilt fades.

His thoughts shift to Gally and the gladers. Minho, Newt and Thomas had all agreed to try and get more people to trust them before they told them about the door, but Thomas had a hard time believing that many people would shift their views. Gally seemed good at convincing others of his own beliefs, or maybe he was just good at manipulation. Either way, judging by what Minho had told him, and Thomas himself being locked in a cell, it seemed that most people were not on his side.

A noise brings Thomas back from his own head and into reality; footsteps slowly getting louder as something comes closer to the slammer. Thomas can’t see anything through the heavy darkness, so he makes a guess. “Minho?”

“No.” A soft voice responds.

“Newt?” Thomas asks, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you,” Newt responds, sounding hesitant. “Wanted to ask you something.”

A comfortable warmth heats Thomas’ chest at the admission, and he makes a split-second decision. “Open this up for me, please?” He asks, gesturing at the door to the pit. When Newt doesn’t move for a few seconds, Thomas tries again, pleading. “Please, I’m not gonna’ run or anything.”

Newt relents, “Yeah, yeah Tommy.” He unlocks the door and swings it open slowly. Thomas pushes himself up and out of the cell, kneeling on the grass beside Newt.

Feeling his bravery wavering slightly, Thomas reaches his hand out for the blonde. His hand stops when his fingertips brush against fabric, and Thomas feels Newt’s sharp inhale beneath his hand.

“Sorry,” Thomas whispers, afraid if he spoke any louder the fragile circle that they existed in would somehow shatter around them. The feeling also keeps him still, hand still brushing faintly over Newt’s chest.

“It’s okay,” Newt says, and Thomas hopes he isn’t projecting when he hears the breathlessness in the blonde’s voice. After a long moment, Thomas raises his hand slowly, carefully, until his fingers are trailing up Newt’s cheek.

“Can I…” Thomas trails off, chest tight.

“Tommy…” Newt leans into the touch. Thomas thinks that would give anything to be able to see Newt’s face at this very moment.

“Can I,” Thomas repeats, words lost on his tongue. He strokes Newt’s cheekbone with his thumb. “Can I kiss you?”

A shaky breath is released against his palm, and, for a moment, Thomas thinks Newt is going to push him off and run in the opposite direction. Instead, the blonde whispers, “Yes.”

The permission surprises Thomas so much that he freezes for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But, as the seconds go on and they both wait in silence, Thomas remembers himself. He leans forward, slowly, feeling awkward but chest still shaky with excitement.

Newt is closer that he thought, so it doesn’t take very long for Thomas to close the distance between the two of them, lips brushing against Newt’s chin. Feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment, Thomas tilts Newt’s head down slightly, cupping his cheek in Thomas’ hand, and leading the blonde’s mouth onto his.

The kiss is soft, a slow press of careful lips. Newt’s are are cold and chapped, and Thomas can feel him trembling. It’s over quickly; Thomas pulling away after only a couple of seconds, but it still feels like the best thing that Thomas has ever done. He knows he has a stupid grin on his face, and is suddenly glad for the darkness that blankets them.

Before either of them can speak, a booming noise echoes through the Glade. Thomas jumps back in alarm, catching himself before he can fall back into the slammer. His gaze darts around the Glade, but it is still too late at night to see anything.

The noise fades out after a short time, and it’s then when Thomas realizes where he recognizes it from.

“Is that...” Thomas trails off, confused. He doesn’t hear a response, so he reaches out to Newt again, this time grabbing his bare arm. “Newt, do you know-?”

“Newt!” Minho’s voice rings out, though he sounds quite a ways away.

The sound pushes the blonde into action though. He stands quickly, Thomas’ hand falling from his arm, and shouts, “Minho!”

A light in the distance appears, starts to get larger as Minho comes into their sight, calling out to Newt. Thomas slips back into the slammer and swings the door closed, not wanting to have to answer the questions Minho would obviously ask when he sees Thomas outside of the cell.

When Minho is close enough that the torch he’s holding illuminates the area around the slammer, Thomas can finally make out the nervousness on Newt’s face, and the fear on Minho’s.

Minho steps up to Newt, holding his shoulder with his free hand. “I saw you weren’t in bed, and I-.”

“What the hell is happening?” Newt cuts him off, looking a lot more frantic than he had the minute before.

“The doors opened,” says a voice, stating what all the rest of them are thinking. Thomas startles, turning sharply to look at Teresa and how calmly she sits in the corner of the cell. Thomas wonders how long she’s been awake, and the thought make his cheeks flush as he looks back at Newt. He and Minho are both looking back, and the light of the torch highlights their terror, even as they try and hide it.

A scream sounds from the hammocks, and bolt of fear shoots up Thomas. “What the shuck was that?” He asks, and another scream follows after his words.

Minho springs into action, shoo-ing Newt back a few steps. “Get in, c’mon Newt,” he says, gesturing to the slammer.

“What?” The blonde sputters, standing his ground. A chorus of yells erupt from the same direction as the screams, quickly getting closer to them.

“Something’s going on,” Minho says, “the doors are open and people are panicking. Let me go check what’s going on and-.”

“Thomas?” Another voice calls from the darkness. Thomas scans the area, a small head of dark curls coming into view. From somewhere in the distance, Thomas can hear the sound of grinding mental, and it sends a shiver of terror down his spine.

“Chuck!” Thomas yells, launching himself out of the cell, “get in here!” The boy runs, jumping down into the the slammer without question, Minho and Newt following quickly after, and Thomas slams the door down behind them. Newt tugs off his sweater, tying it around the door and bar of the cell in a makeshift lock.

The griever crawls forward, creeping closer and closer to the slammer. They are all frozen as they watch. Thomas can feel his heart beating in his throat, hears Chuck’s shaky breath beside him.

Suddenly, another person comes into view. They’re backpedaling slowly, like they’re trying not to be seen, but, in doing so, have missed the griever that is coming straight towards them.

Thomas doesn’t hesitate, yelling, “Run!” The boy whirls around, noticing the griever, and taking off in the opposite direction. Thomas breathes out heavily when they both disappear from sight, but his relief is snatched away when a scream is heard from the same place that the boy had run, followed by a sickening crunch.

He flinches, staggering back into the wall of the cell. He has Minho pressed up against his left side and Chuck against the other, and he’s not sure if it’s them that are shaking or if it’s him. Maybe it’s all of them.

“Grievers,” Chuck whispers, just loud enough to fill the cell. “The grievers are in the Glade.” Thomas throws an arm around his shoulder, pulling Chuck into his chest. He feels another hand against Chuck’s back, moving in a slow, soothing circle, and realizes that Teresa, the only person on Chuck’s right side, must be rubbing Chuck’s back. Trying to comfort him.

“We have to stay here,” Minho mumbles, “leaving is a death sentence.”

“Minho…” Newt whispers, somewhere off to Thomas’ left. “What about Alby?”

The words confuse Thomas for only a moment, before he remembers that their leader is stuck in the homestead, bedridden as his wounds heal.

“We can’t-,” Minho continues.

“He’s alone in the homestead!” Newt exclaims, voice becoming high with hysteria. “We have to go get him, we have to-.” The blonde cuts himself off, and Thomas can feel Minho move, knows that Newt has run for the door.

“Newt!”

The roof of the slammer shakes suddenly, and everyone freezes. A breath is caught in Thomas’ chest. He can hear footstep-like sounds from above him, accompanied by a clicking noise. Everyone is silent and still for a few moments, and the griever that's above the slammer passes on, following a scream that's heard in the distance.

“We have to get him,” Newt pleads once it's gone, and Thomas can hear him and Minho moving around the confined space again.

“It’s too dangerous,” Minho responds, but Thomas can he his resolve waning slightly.

“Minho. Let go of my bloody arm.”

“I’m not gonna’ do that.” They start to struggle, and Thomas passes a still-trembling Chuck to Teresa, stretching his arms out in front in hopes to split the two friends up and quiet their arguing. Unfortunately, they’re fighting harder than Thomas thinks, and he’s quickly knocked back against the wall once more.

“Minho!” Newt hisses, his voice hoarse and shaking. “Let me go! He’s not safe in there, please-.”

They bump against Thomas shoulder, and Thomas hears Newt exhale harshly, right next to Thomas’ ear. Minho says, “We’ll go and get him as soon as it’s safe I promise-.”

An almost deafening sound hits them so hard Thomas almost falls over from the force of it. A bright light washes over the slammer, illuminating the horror on all of their faces. Thomas knows where it comes from without having to look.

Newt scrambles to the door, and Thomas knows he’s not stupid, knows Newt knows. But the blonde still looks, taking only a short second, before he crumples to the floor. A noise, somewhere akin to a scream makes its way from Newt’s chest, and it pushes Thomas’ legs to move forward. He doesn’t look out of the door; he doesn’t want to see the remains of the explosion that took the homestead that's right in clear view of the slammer. Instead, he kneels by Newt’s side, and pulls the blonde into his arms.

He’s stiff and quiet as he sobs. He grips the front of Thomas’ shirt tightly in his fists, and Thomas wraps his arms around him. Thomas’ throat is so tight he can’t breathe, tears spill onto his cheeks, and he lets them fall.

As the light from the fire slowly starts to dim, Thomas takes a gasping breath, glancing over Newt’s shoulder at Minho. He can only see the faint outline of the boy now, but it’s easy to see his curled figure on the floor just feet away from them, knees to his chest and head buried into his lap.

Thomas wishes he could reach out to Minho, wishes he could comfort both of his friends in their grief, but Newt’s grip is tight and he doesn’t know how well it would look to leave the blonde to comfort someone else, so he stays. Stays with Newt curled up against his chest, face buried in Thomas’ neck as he cries, until dawn.

“They’re gone,” Chuck says quietly. It’s the first time anyone has spoken in the last few hours, and the sound makes Thomas jolt, which in turn jostles Newt in the process. The blonde pulls away from him, looking at Thomas for a second before he sits back against the wall of the cell. Thomas watches him, watches his red eyes dart around the room, watches as he bites his bottom lip so hard that a drop of blood runs down his chin. Taking a quick glance over his shoulder, Thomas can see that every else is watching the blonde the same way he is.

Minho is who Newt focuses on, though. They stare at each other for a few long minutes, Minho still in the same position he had sat in hours ago, face streaked with tears.

“Newt…” Minho mumbles, questioning, almost. The blonde shifts forward towards his friend, extending both his arms out and settling them on Minho’s shoulders. Thomas turns away as they hug, wanting to give the two privacy as they grieve together.

He crawls to Chuck and Teresa, placing a hand on Chuck’s arm. The boy stares at him with wide eyes, and Thomas knows that it wasn’t just Newt and Minho that cried through the whole night.

“I think we’re safe now,” Thomas says, “but I’m gonna’ go out first, just to make sure none of them are out there. You have to stay right here, okay?” Chuck nods. Thomas glances up at Teresa, sees her normally blank face screwed up in concern for Chuck and him, and gives her a thin smile.

Thomas rises, taking the few steps towards the door. He peeks his head out, combing the area with his eyes, searching for possible threats. His eyes linger on the multitude of bodies that lay just in his field of vision, and Thomas feels bile rising in his throat.

Forcing his eyes away from the dead and the pile of rubble of distance that can only be the homestead, Thomas concludes that the area is safe, at least for the time being. It’s then that he spots it, about thirty feet away; a large pile of smoking metal and globs of flesh.

Chuck rises next to Thomas, eyes widening at the griever. “Is it…” He says, “is it dead?”

“I think so,” Thomas says, too tired to reprimand the boy for not listening to him. He lifts himself and Chuck out of the slammer, Teresa following closely behind.

They walk towards the griever carefully. When it doesn’t move or make a sound, Thomas kneels down beside it, wincing in disgust at the unrecognizable shape of the thing. He notices it’s long tail-like limb, and the spike attached to the end.

He remembers Chuck’s words: _The guys that go through the Changing, though, ‘parently they remember some stuff after it’s happened._

“Newt!” Someone yells. “Minho!”

Thomas turns around, eyes widening as Gally stalks over to Newt and Minho. They must have left the cell as Thomas was looking at the griever, though they’ve only traveled a few meters from the door before Gally is on them. Thomas can’t hear what he’s saying anymore, but the way Minho flinches at his words and Newt turns away from Gally’s anger makes Thomas’ irritation spike.

“Gally!” He yells. The boy turns, noticing Thomas for the first time. Gally stomps forward towards him.

“You let the damn Greenie out of the slammer?” Gally yells, shoving Thomas back. He falls over his heels, landing hard on his back as Gally leans over him and sneers. He grabs Thomas shirt, slamming him back down into the ground. The air leaves Thomas’ chest, and he gasps for breath.

“Gally, let him go!” Minho appears, pushing Gally a few steps back. As Thomas tries to shake the stars from his vision, he can faintly see Gally lunge for him once again, Minho grabbing him and throwing him back.

Thomas hears, “This is your shucking fault Greenie! You’re the reason the grievers came today, aren’t you? Half of us are dead because of you!”

“That’s enough!” He hears someone else’s voice, the sickening thud of skin on skin, but Thomas turns from the fight, crawling towards the dead griever. It’s only a meter away, and Thomas gets there fast enough, yanking out the spike from the tail. He hisses as the hot metal touches his skin, but he holds the weapon in his hand regardless. He fiddles with it, remembers the bodies littering the ground, remembers the look of fear on Chuck’s face, remembers the sound of Newt’s sobs as he cried against Thomas’ chest.

And, as the sounds of Gally screaming at him, calling him a traitor, slowly fade away from existence, Thomas stabs the spike into his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh another cliffhanger! i'm sorryyy (but i'm not really sorry). thanks for reading!


	10. hoʻomanaʻo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s going to hate you for it,” Chuck presses, “I think he already does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little bit of a shorter one, but we get to learn some things this chapter. hope you like it!

All that is left is the pain.

It is almost unbearable, like someone had lit Thomas’ heart on fire and the liquid magma of his blood was tearing through his own veins. He can’t speak; frozen in agony as he drops to his knees, falling onto the ground in a heap. There are screams around him, ringing deep in his ears like he’s remembering them, and not actually hearing them. Thomas wonders if his eardrums have burst, or if maybe the poison in his blood has finally reached his brain in a way that’s irreversible. Despite it, as Thomas waits for death to take him, he can’t say that he regrets it.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, burning from the inside out.

 

-

 

_Thomas walks through the darkness into an familiar looking bedroom._

_“What are you doing?” He asks, wide eyes on his group of friends in front of him. Their normally sealed metal windows have been pried open, and Thomas can see the bags piled around the feet of Newt, Minho, and Alby._

_“Hey, Thomas,” Minho says, after a brief silence._

_“Where are you going?” Thomas asks. He is met with silence. The questions is unnecessary anyway, because Thomas can easily guess their plan. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”_

_“Listen, Tommy-,” Newt starts, taking a step forward._

_“They’ll catch you, you know they will.” Thomas feels a small amount of panic start to build in him._

_“Yeah, and that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Alby says, his voice commanding Thomas’ attention. “Why do we need to be caught?” Why can’t we just leave? It feels a lot like we’re being raised as pigs for slaughter here.” Thomas blanches. In his years here, he’s never once heard Alby speak out against WICKED._

_“You guys know what we’re doing here, why we’re here,” Thomas tries. “We’re going to save people-.”_

_Newt grabs Thomas’ arm, pulls him farther into the room and looking him straight in his eyes. “Come with us.”_

_“What?” Thomas questions, incredulous._

_“I don’t think-,” Alby speaks up, but Newt forces Thomas’ eyes back on him._

_“You’ve been here just as long as us, and I know you want to leave too. Ever since you started helping design that bloody maze, we’ve seen you change. Now all you care about are the rules, and the puzzles you’re making, and what Ava thinks about you. Come with us Tommy, and it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. You’ll be free. We all will be.”_

_Thomas looks up at the window, looks into the eyes of Alby and Minho, and then back to the blonde’s pleading place. Then, Thomas lies. “Okay.”_

 

-

 

_Thomas walks into the room, head hanging down, a ball of guilt like a neon sign blinking above his head. Ava looks up at him, the frown on her face familiar and almost comforting to Thomas. She is sitting on a chair at her desk, computer open behind her. If it was a different day, a different time, Thomas would notice the documents behind, would be unendingly curious about what she was working on, but today wasn’t a day for curiosity._

_“Thomas?” Ava asks, her normally neutral tone betraying a hint of concern. She stands, walking a couple steps towards Thomas, who is still standing in in front of the door to the room._

_Clenching his fists, Thomas says, “I need to tell you something.”_

_Ava stops. “Is everything okay?”_

_Thomas releases his jaw, not realizing he had it clenched so hard until it started to hurt. “It’s important.”_

_“Is there something wrong with the maze?” Ava asks, and Thomas shakes his head._

_“No, it’s not that.”_

_“Than what, Thomas?”_

_“It’s…” Thomas takes a deep breath, finally looking up to meet Ava’s steely blue eyes. “It’s about Subjects A5, A6, and A7."_

 

-

 

_“Thomas,” she states, hard and without emotion, “I think it is best that you come with me.”_

_“Is it true?” Thomas asks, not noticing the tears that drip down his face until they fall off of the end of his chin. “Have they been in the maze, have they been dying for nothing all this time?”_

_“I don’t think this is the time or place to talk about-.”_

_“Tell me!” Thomas screams. His heart beats frantically in his chest. In his anger, he doesn’t notice the guards surrounding him, or the look of pity that rests on Ava’s face._

_“There is a reason you are the last person to be put into the maze, Thomas,” she says, and that’s the last thing Thomas hears._

 

-

 

_Thomas is frustrated, feels that Teresa, from her seat across from him, feels the exact same way._

_“You know he has to go, Thomas” Teresa says, face contorted into a familiar frown. Thomas digs his nails into his palms, trying to keep his anger at bay._

_“That does not make this right, T,” Thomas mutters. Teresa shakes her head vehemently._

_“You know why we have to do this,” Teresa responds, placing her hands on the table between them and leaning forward. “This isn’t about us anymore. We’re saving people. Isn’t that worth it?”_

_“Maybe it was. But things have changed,” Thomas says, and Teresa makes a distressed noise._

_“But this isn’t the answer! You know what will happen if you go through with this.”_

_Thomas huffs angrily, his muscles going tight with exasperation. “You lost every right to try and change my mind when you did what you did,” he says harshly._

_There’s a small, heavy-weighted silence. Teresa deflates, shoulders dropping as she leans back in her chair.  “Okay,” she concedes, rising from the chair and making her way out of the room._

_The room is cold when she is gone._

 

-

 

_It’s dark, and the voices Thomas hears are faint, so he presses his ear closer to the door to try and make out the words._

_“...sure you want to do this?” Chuck sounds apprehensive, cautious, like the he is trying not to startle a rabid dog, and Thomas grinds his teeth at the sound. The contempt he already felt for Teresa grows, knowing she’s made Chuck nervous enough to sound like that._

_Thomas hears harsh sigh. “I can’t let him do this to himself,” Teresa says, and she sounds angry, an emotion Thomas knows is normal for her nowadays._

_“He’s going to hate you for it,” Chuck presses, “I think he already does.”_

_There is a pause. “Do you hate me for it?” Teresa asks, and Thomas wishes he couldn’t hear her voice shake slightly._

_Silence is the only response to her words. Thomas isn’t sure how he feels about Chuck’s answer._

_“It will be better,” Teresa says, “I promise, this is the better way.”_

_“Okay,” Chuck says, not sounding convinced._

_“I’ll find a way, Chuck. We always do.”_

 

-

 

_“Do you like designing the maze, Tom?” She asks, brow furrowed and avoiding Thomas’ eyes. He brushes off the odd behaviour, writing it off as a symptom of their long nights and even longer days._

_“I think it’s fun.” Thomas grins at her. “I mean it’s hard sometimes, but I like being creative, and it’s better than being in our rooms all day.”_

_Teresa breathes in heavily and than holds it, closing her eyes. “Do you ever think…” she trails off, but quickly regains her bravery and continues, “do you ever think we’re doing something wrong? By creating the maze, I mean.”_

_“Wrong?” Thomas questions, squinting at her. “How would it be wrong? We’re just doing what they tell us to.”_

_“Yeah,” Teresa agrees, lowering her head back down to her computer screen._

 

-

 

_“I’ll see you soon, you know that,” Thomas says, trying to sound more cheerful than he feels. From the look Minho sends him, he hasn’t convinced anyone._

_“Not for another three years,” he grumbles, and Thomas knows that Minho is just using irritation to cover up his sadness, but it still squeezes at Thomas’ heart. Newt puts a hand on Thomas’ and Minho’s shoulders, putting on a brave smile for the three of them._

_It pushes Thomas to say, “Yeah, and then we’re gonna figure this shit out together, all of us. We’ll solve the maze and get out, and then it’ll all be worth something.”_

_“Yeah,” Newt says, pulling the two of them for a group hug, “I’m sure it will, Tommy.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos keep authors running! even if you just tell me your favourite line from this chapter, it would make my day a lot better! thanks for reading.


	11. सँगै आऊ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How are you doing?” Thomas asks, wincing when the smile falls from Chuck’s face. “Bad question, I’m sorry.”  
> Chuck shrugs, looking away. “It’s okay.” A silence settles, and Thomas wonders, suddenly, how different his friends’ lives would be if he had never been sent to the glade. How many of the gladers would still be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so it's been 2 full months and I am extremely sorry for the long wait. senior year is really kicking me in the ass right now, and I've been so busy with scholarships and applications that I've been neglecting writing a lot lately. but now I think I've got back into the groove of writing and I'm hoping to get this fic done by the middle of March. only two more chapters left!  
> hope you guys enjoy!

Thomas wakes to a face very close to his own, surrounded by a dark head of hair. “Teresa!” He exclaims, shaking his head. His vision is blurry, and it’s hard to see past the dark spots blinking in and out of his eyesight. Thomas murmurs, “Hey…”

Another head jumps into Thomas’ line of sight. “Hey, Greenie! Nice of you to finally wake up,” Minho says, grinning toothily. Looking around, Thomas sees that Teresa and him are in the Slammer once again, and this time Minho has joined them. Thomas is laying on the ground of the cell, and Teresa and Minho are kneeling over him, eyes squinted like they can’t tell if Thomas is really awake or not.

Thomas furrows his eyebrows. “Why are we…”

“Gally,” Minho states, as if the single word explains everything. At Thomas’ confused look, he elaborates, “after you went through the Changing, and they injected you with the serum, he told them to throw you in here.”

“And you?” Thomas asks.

Minho grimaces, scratching a hand down the back of his neck. “When he attacked you, before you blacked out, I may have thrown a punch or two.” He grins humorously at Thomas. “Apparently I’m the enemy now, too.”

“They’re scared of us.” Teresa says, and Thomas looks at her. Her hair is matted and greasy, face streaked with dirt. Thomas is reminded that she’s been stuck in the same cell since she woke up, and a pang of sympathy rings through Thomas’ chest.

“Scared?”

“They think we’re going to get them killed,” she says simply. Her eyes flick towards the opening of the Slammer.

A thought occurs to Thomas. “And Chuck? Newt?”

“Chuck shows up now and then,” Minho says, leaning back against the cell wall. “Brings us updates about what’s happening.”

Feeling the dizziness from his head starting to clear, Thomas lifts himself to a sitting position next to Minho. “And Newt? No one is listening to him or Alby?”

Minho sucks in a short breath, ducking his head between his legs. Thomas looks at Teresa, confused, and she gives him a sympathetic look. “Alby’s dead, Thomas,” Teresa says softly, placing her hand on Thomas’ arm. All the air rushes out of Thomas’ chest, and he remembers.

“I-,” Thomas gets choked up on the words, can’t find a way to tell Minho that he forgot.

Minho stands suddenly, walking to the other side of the small cell. His breaths are heavy, and Thomas can see the rigidness in his posture. “He’s dead, and no one trusts me _or_ you, and Gally is controlling them all by fear.” He takes a shuddering breath, and Thomas wishes he had anything to say that could comfort him. “You’ve been out for three days, Greenie. And every night since, the doors have stayed open.”

Fear grips Thomas’ chest like a vice. “Oh god,” he whispers, “how many…”

Minho shakes his head. “I don’t know. They won’t tell us. But every night I hear the grievers come into our home and I hear them scream-.” Minho clenches his fists. “They have places to hide now, but they always find some of them.”

“I’m sorry.” The words don’t feel like enough. Minho

“Can Chuck and Newt get us out?”

“Newt’s working on it. Gally won’t let him talk to us. According to Chuck, he’s threatening to banish us if Newt steps out of line. And he hasn’t thrown Newt in here because-.”

“He has influence over the gladers still,” Thomas guesses, and Minho nods.

“Some of them still trust him. And Gally needs as many as possible right now.”

“So what’s our game plan then?” Thomas rises, taking a peak out of the Slammer. He doesn’t see much, only a couple of gladers out working the farm. Something twists in the bottom of his stomach when he remembers why there are so little people around in what looks like the middle of the day. He turns back to Minho. “What are we gonna’ do once we’re out of here?”

“The first thing we need to do is figure out that code that was on the door in the maze. That’s our ticket out of here. Newt’s trying to find as many of our records that he can, but a lot of them were in the Homestead when…” Minho trails off, taking a deep, shaky breath. “When it exploded.”

Surprising even himself, Thomas walks over to Minho and pulls him into a tight hug. Minho is still for a moment, breath hot against Thomas’ neck, before he wraps his own arms around Thomas, burying his face against Thomas’ neck.

“I don’t want to say sorry, because I know it won’t help, but I don’t know what else to say,” Thomas whispers into Minho’s hair.

“Don’t say anything, I just need.” Minho swallows. “Just this.” Thomas nods, squeezing Minho tighter to his chest.

They break apart a minute later, a faint blush climbing Minho’s cheeks. Thomas makes himself look away, and instead makes accidental eye contact with Teresa. She’s studying them, looking between Thomas and Minho like there’s something to be learned if she stares hard enough. Thomas feels his own sheepish blush tinting his cheeks, and he turns away so Teresa doesn’t notice that, too.

“What’d you see?” Minho asks suddenly, like he’s just remembered something, looking at Thomas.

“What?”

“The memories? You see them when you get stung. They screw with you, get into your head. Something in it makes you feel guilty,” he explains. “So what’d you see?”

Thomas sighs, sitting down on the dirt floor of the cell. He glances at Teresa, but she’s looking away from him, out into the fields beyond the Slammer. “A lot.”

“Care for details?” Minho raises his eyebrow.

“It’s hard to process.”

“Meaning?”

Thomas clenches his jaw. “Meaning I don’t know what I saw,” he says, noticing the nervous, high-pitched affect on his voice. “It was a lot of information and I just-.”

Minho leans forward, looking eager and a touch suspicious. “Did you see anything about us? About the maze?”

“I saw you. And Newt. We were young…” Thomas shakes his head. “And I don’t remember anything else.”

“But, you said we were together before the maze? Like-.”

A face with dark, bushy hair comes into view from between the bars of the Slammer. “Chuck?” Thomas says. “What are you doing here?”

The boy’s eyes light up when he sees Thomas in front of him, and his mouth curls into a grin. “I heard you guys talking, and I thought you might be awake. I wanted to see for myself.”

“How are you doing?” Thomas asks, wincing when the smile falls from Chuck’s face. “Bad question, I’m sorry.”

Chuck shrugs, looking away. “It’s okay.” A silence settles, and Thomas wonders, suddenly, how different his friends’ lives would be if he had never been sent to the glade. How many of the gladers would still be alive.

“Any news?” Minho jumps in, shooting Thomas a sympathetic look. Thomas gives him a small smile back, grateful for the distraction.

“Yeah. Not good news either,” Chuck says, “Gally’s planning on banishing you guys tomorrow. I heard him talking to Winston about it. I don’t think anyone else knows yet.”

“Have you told Newt?” Minho asks, sharing a wide-eyed look with Thomas.

“No, I was going to go there right away, but he’s either got Gally or one of Gally’s minions by his side at all times.”

“We need to leave,” Thomas states, facing Minho. “All of us, as soon as we can.”

“The door code…” Minho’s eyebrows are pulled down, and he’s standing eerily still, arms crossed over his chest.

“Significant seven digit numbers? Do you guys even have numbers for anything in this place?”

Chuck shrugs helplessly. “Just our clocks for the Runners, and we keep track of the number of days we’ve been here.”

“Could those numbers be-,” Thomas asks, knowing the answer before Chuck says it.

“They’re too small; definitely not seven digits.”

“What about the numbers that were on the note? The note about me?”

“Note? What note?” Chuck asks, and Thomas grimaces, remembering how little he had actually told Chuck about why he was in the Slammer in the first place.

"There's a note that Creators wrote to the first group of gladers that were here. It says, _Thomas is the beginning of the end._ That's why you weren't supposed to tell anyone what my name was."

"Is that why Gally's so freaked out about you?" Chuck asks.

"Yeah, something like that."

“The note is seven digits," Minho chimes in, "but it seems too easy. You'd think they'd want us to figure out a puzzle or something."

Thomas agrees, but the fluttering of excitement that lights up in his chest erases his doubts. “Do you know them, the order?”

“Yeah. Nine, forty-six, seventeen, zero, three.”

“We need to try it. That is our way out of here.”

They’re grinning almost maniacally at each other, the joy of possibly solving the puzzle pulsing between the two of them. Thomas looks over and notices Teresa is even smiling quietly to herself, obviously excited to finally leave the cell.

“Thomas.” Chuck snaps Thomas out of his thoughts.

“Yeah? What’s up Chuck?”

The boy looks pensive, not quite happy or sad, and the expression confuses Thomas. “We’re gonna’ escape tomorrow, aren’t we? Before Gally banishes you?”

“We’re gonna try,” Thomas says, walking towards Chuck at the edge of the cell. He assumes from the boy’s demeanor that Chuck would rather keep this conversation private. Or, as private as it can be in a tiny cell.

“I want you to take this.” Chuck holds out his hand, fist bulging with something in his grip. Thomas reaches out his arm, intrigued, watching closely as Chuck drops a small object into his palm. Thomas turns it over, running his thumb over the ridges of the wood. It's a crude carving of a person, with a small head and a larder torso. The face, though tiny, has a small grin carved into the center of it, and Thomas is unable to keep the smile off of his own face.

“What is it?” Thomas asks.

Chuck looks at him, the corners of his mouth curving up. “Something I made when I first got here. I carved it. It’s for luck, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

“Thank you, Chuck,” Thomas says, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice. “We’re gonna get out of here tomorrow, I promise you.”

“Speaking of,” Minho pipes up from behind Thomas, “we need a plan for tomorrow.”

Thomas turns a half-smile toward him. “Got any suggestions?”

 

-

 

That night, after Chuck snuck back to the hammocks and Thomas, Minho, and Teresa have settled down to sleep, they get some unexpected visitors.

It starts with a shout that wakes Thomas from his half-sleep, brain fuzzy and bleary eyed. The sound of a scuffle which wakes the others comes quickly after. It’s close by, probably coming from just a few feet from the Slammer, but Thomas can’t see a thing in the dark.

“I told them you were helping them, but they didn’t listen to me! Now you’ll get to be banished with them tomorrow.”

A shiver rolls down Thomas’ spine, a cold feeling of dread settling over him.

“Gally?” Minho shouts from beside him, startling Thomas so much he flinches away for a second.

The sounds of muffled cursing comes closer, and suddenly, one of the torches outside the cell is ignited, and Thomas can see the situation in front of him. Gally’s standing, a ball of tight-nit rage, one hand twisted in light blonde hair, the other holding Newt’s wrists behind his back. Because of the dim light, Thomas can’t see a lot, but what he does notice sends a bolt of rage through him. A trail of blood comes from Newt’s cheek and another from his nose, neck arched back from the strength of Gally’s hold.

“I’m gonna’ kill him,” Minho mutters, jaw tensed and fists clenched beside him.

“Caught this one sneaking out to talk to you.” Gally bares his teeth, throwing Newt to his knees. Minho snarls, gripping the wood bars of the cell and shaking them wildly. “If he wants to be with his boyfriends so bad he can stay in the Slammer with you.”

“What you’re doing is wrong, Gally, and you know it,” Thomas says through gritted teeth.

“I’m trying to protect my people,” Gally retorts, walking towards the cell door. Thomas grabs Minho’s shoulder, forcing him away from the opening, trying to prevent any more injuries. Gally grips Newt’s shirt, unceremoniously tossing him into the cell, his only safety from hitting the ground face-first being Minho’s quick reflexes. “And if that means losing some along the way, then so be it.”

Gally slams the door closed, placing the rope lock back in place before stalking off into the night.

Minho stumbles back, trying to keep his balance while getting Newt up on his feet. Thomas steps forward to help, but Newt shoves them both back as soon as he gets his bearings. They back off, but it doesn’t stop Thomas from worrying about the way the blonde limps over to the wall, sliding down it until he’s settled on the floor.

Newt looks up at Thomas. “You’re awake,” he states, though he doesn’t look too surprised.

“Yeah,” Thomas says, sitting beside Newt, “I’ve heard it’s been a long couple of days.”

Newt flinches, and the movement makes him hiss in pain. Minho kneels in front of him immediately, hands hovering over the blonde like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Minho asks, “Are you okay?”

Newt looks away. “Fine.”

“He hurt you,” Thomas protests, but Newt shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” he insists, chewing on a thumb nail. “There’s bigger things to worry about. Gally’s planning on banishing you guys tomorrow and-.”

“We know, Newt. Chuck came and told us earlier,” Thomas says.

“Chuck, thank god.” Newt breathes out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall. While he’s distracted, Minho reaches out a shaky hand, running his thumb just above the cut on Newt’s cheek.

“Minho I told you I was fine,” Newt mutters, eyes still closed. He doesn’t sound annoyed, rather, as Minho leans closer and cups Newt’s unharmed cheek, he seems to relax, tension leaving his body.

“Let me look, please,” Minho whispers, turning Newt’s head back and forth to look for more injuries. When he finds none, he runs a searching hand down Newt’s side, pulling away immediately when Newt flinches.

“Just a bruise,” Newt says softly, and Thomas can’t tell if he’s lying. Minho apparently reluctantly decides to believe him, and skips right down to Newt’s right knee. Newt’s eyes fly open and he uses the back of his hand to muffle a yelp of pain. Thomas can see a tear slip away from the corner of Newt’s eye, and puts a hand on the blonde’s arm comfortingly.

“That shuckface screwed with your knee, didn’t he?” Minho says, eyes training over Newt as he tries to calm his own anger down.

Newt breathes out shakily, avoiding Minho’s eyes. “It’ll heal.”

Minho nods, sitting down on Newt’s other side and wrapping a friendly arm around his shoulder.

Just as Thomas is drifting off, he hears Minho whisper, so quiet Thomas can barely hear him, “When we leave tomorrow, it has to be you, you know that, right? Even though Gally trying his hardest to get them to hate you, the boys still trust you. You need to talk to them.”

“They don’t trust me. Everyone left-,” Newt responds, just as quiet.

“Newt.” There’s a long pause, and Thomas feels Newt shift beside him.

“Fine. I’ll try.”

Thomas doesn’t hear the reply, as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

 

-

 

They are pulled from the Slammer early in the morning the next day, just as the sun is rising over the walls. They tie their hands behind their backs, and push them towards the North door where the rest of the gladers are standing. It almost takes Thomas’ breath away, when he and the others are led to the door and he sees how many gladers there really are left. He counts all of fifteen before he’s pushed forward to the opening of the door.

They have long, T-shaped sticks that they point at the four of them, and Thomas realizes with a freezing chill down his spine, that the sticks are to force them out of the doors. Judging by the rough look of each of the sticks, they also seem well-used.

Gally stands in front of them, facing the rest of the gladers. Thomas notices an awkward bend to his nose that he hadn’t seen the night before.

“Thomas has betrayed us,” Gally starts, bellowing his voice into the small crowd, “and has been doing it since he got here. He is working with the creators, the people that put us here! He has been made to look like the hero, just to allow the grievers into our home when we least expect it. I’m not going to let someone come into our home and hurt our people. If the creators want some of our blood, then we’ll give it to them.”

Thomas speaks up then, projecting his voice for the others to hear. “You’re gonna punish Minho, Newt, and Teresa for stuff you think I did?”

Gally whirls on him, glaring unhappily at being interrupted. “The girl’s been working with you this whole time. You have admitted you know each other, is that wrong?” He pauses, pointing at his nose and turning back to the crowd. “Minho broke one of our main rules when he gave me this.”

“And Newt?” Says someone in the crowd. It’s starts a round of whispers between the gladers, and Thomas quietly celebrates the seeming dwindling confidence the gladers have in Gally’s decision to include Newt in the banishment.

But Gally has a response. “I caught Newt sneaking around the slammer last night; he was trying to help them escape. And he’s been taking Thomas’ side since he got here.” He gestures  back to the group of them. “They’re all in on it, don’t you see? WICKED sent them here to break us down, to separate us, to kill us. And now we’re gonna’ show them a taste of their own medicine.”

Thomas steps forward again. “Gally, please, this is stupid. We can figure-.”

“Stupid?” Gally cuts him off, his voice growing in pitch and desperation. “Do you really think losing all of our people is stupid, Greenie? All I’m trying to do is make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Gally…” Thomas protests, but his words are lost to deaf ears.

“The people who betrayed us will be gone from the glade soon…” Gally shouts, trailing off as Chuck, backpack hanging off his shoulders, pushes through the crowd of boys. “Chuck?”

The boy stands in front of Gally, breathing a long breath in and out. “I’m sorry, Gally,” he says, before swinging his stick low, taking out Gally by his knees.

For a second, Thomas thinks their plan won’t work. Minho, Teresa, Newt, and he are tied up, and there are too many gladers surrounding them for Chuck to be able to cut the ropes behind their backs in time. But, shockingly, not one of the boys move. They share looks as Chuck frees them, but no one moves forward to stop them. When the four of them are free, they stand together in the center of the semi-circle of gladers surrounding them, watching as Gally rises, a ball of fear and rage.

“They’re traitors!” Gally screams, pointing an accusing finger at them. “They attacked me!”

“There’s a way out!” Thomas protests, trying to ignore the quick beating of his heart. Gally fixates his glare on Thomas, and Thomas shivers at the almost manic look in his eyes. He turns back to the crowd of gladers, desperate as he sees there distrustful gazes fall on him. “A way out, through the maze. I know it sounds crazy, and I know none of you will believe us, but all we want to do is get as many of us out as possible. And the only way we can do that is if you trust us.”

A murmur ripples through the group, and a boy from the back shouts, “Why should we trust you? Just because Alby’s dead...”

“Alby...” Newt says, voice trailing off as he tries to collect his thoughts. Thomas steps aside, lets the focus shift to the blonde as he addresses the gladers.

“Alby. And Dave, and Mark, and Steven, and Ray and Jessie and John and. And everyone else. They’re gone, all of them. But we don’t stop when people die.” Newt’s voice cracks on the last word, and Thomas can see him biting his lip and clenching his fists, knows how hard it is to be talking about death when it’s all still so new. “We live our lives in their names, and we remember who they were and what they fought for.

“One of the last things Alby ever said to me was that he couldn’t wait to until he got to see the outside world with me. A world with no maze, and no grievers, and no death. A world where we could _all_ be happy. That is what Alby fought for. And that’s what I’m fighting for now. If you don’t want to come with us, that’s fine. But just remember those you’ve lost, and remember what they were fighting for.”

When Newt finishes, Thomas can see his chest rising and falling irregularly as he tries to catch his breath. Newt quickly wipes a tear away from the corner of his eye, and Thomas wishes, more than anything, that he could walk over and comfort his friend. But it’s not the time, and Thomas knows that if he ruins this moment, this precious few seconds of silence where the gladers take in Newt’s words, then all could be lost.

The first boy to join them Thomas recognizes as one of the Runners he’s seen with Minho before. Another Runner joins shortly after, standing in the back of the group with his friend. After that, it doesn’t take long for most of the boys to drop their blocking sticks and meet them in the doorway. Frypan, Winston, and Zart are among some of the few that decide to join them, and it’s then that Thomas feels a pang in his chest, realizing he only knows a couple of the gladers names out of the few that are still alive.

“They’re traitors!” Gally yells, retreating to the small group of six boys that decided to stay. “They’re going to get you killed!”

“At least we won’t be stuck in here for the rest of our lives,” Minho shoots back.

“Inspirational,” Newt mutters, and Thomas bites his lip to keep the smile from forming on his face.

Thomas turns, looking out into the dark expanse of the maze. He glances at Chuck, who is on his left side, and the boy gives him a grim attempt at a smile. The expression lifts Thomas’ spirits just enough to move his feet forward, into the maze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments are lovely! :)


	12. Flucht

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re about halfway there when the first Griever appears, jumping down from one of the walls above them and landing on the ground in front of the door with a crack. It launches for them immediately, and Thomas has to dive to the ground to avoid it. He scrambles to his feet quickly, sprinting toward the door. There’s a scream behind him, and a sickening crunch follows it, but Thomas doesn’t turn to see who it was. He keeps running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just letting everyone know, that death tag and graphic descriptions of violence tag really comes into play this chapter. There aren't any deaths that are non-canonical, but just a warning for the faint of heart.

Before they even started into the maze, Thomas knew it was going to be a long trip. There were only four Runners in the group, and with Newt’s recent injury plus the people who didn’t have the same stamina as Minho and him, Thomas had guessed the way to the door was going to be slow going.

The day before, when Teresa, Minho, Chuck, and him had been discussing their escape plan, Minho and him had agreed that Minho would lead in the front and Thomas would follow in the back, so someone wouldn’t be left behind. Minho had also made the rest of them memorize the code for the door, just in case something were to happen. Chuck had packed as many knives from the Bloodhouse that he could in a backpack along with water bottles for their journey.

That backpack was now slung across Thomas’ back, as he had offered to take it when they had started their journey into the maze. An hour in, and his shoulders and backed burned from the weight, but he wasn’t about to let anyone else bear the weight them self.

Unfortunately, running in the back doesn’t hide him from everyone, and Newt sees right through him almost instantly.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one with the limp, Tommy,” the blonde says, slowing down slightly so he can run in line with Thomas. Run is a generous word for what the group is doing, it’s more like a slow jog, but Thomas can’t say anything considering his own speed.

“You still are,” Thomas jokes back, and he sees a half-smile tilt up Newt’s lips.

“How much farther, do you think?” Newt asks, and Thomas is surprised to notice that, even though the blonde is obviously in pain because of his knee, he doesn’t seem out of breath from the run at all.

“It’s only a few more turns from here, from what I remember,” Thomas says, recalling that night he and Minho had spent in the maze. It seems like so long ago, like years have passed since Thomas woke up in the Box and started his life in the Glade. He wonders what it must feel like to the other gladers, who have been living with the maze for over three years.

Soon enough, a familiar long passageway becomes visible, and Thomas breathes a sigh of relief. They slow, grouping together near the end, where the passage veers off to the side, the door only a hundred meters away.

Thomas finally removes the backpack, stretching out his shoulders as he does. When he unzips the bag, he finds a total of nine butcher knives and two sickles inside. He passes one of the sickles to Newt and keeps one for himself, passing the rest of the butcher knives out to the other boys, saving one for Minho.

“Okay, everyone listen up,” Minho says quietly to the group, face grim and shoulders set. “We don’t know what we’re gonna’ be facing right now, so keep your head up. Thomas’ passing out some knives just in case there are any grievers along the way-.”

“Grievers?” One of the boys near the front squeaks, and Thomas winces.

Minho ignores the boy. “We go for the doors. Teresa, Thomas, Chuck, and I know the code, so make sure at least one of us gets there. You see anything, you fight like hell, got it?” Minho turns back around, facing away from them. “Hopefully some of us can get through this without being ripped to shreds, right?”

Thomas feels a wave of anxiousness pass through the group, and, because of his own panicked adrenaline-induced mood, he leans over to Newt and mutters, “He’s not very good a pep-talks, huh?”

For his trouble he gets a raised eyebrow and another half-smile from the blonde. He wishes he could do something suddenly, like pull Newt into a kiss before their probable death. But there’s no time, and in the next second their charging forward to the door, time slowing down and blood pounding in Thomas’ ears.

They’re about halfway there when the first Griever appears, jumping down from one of the walls above them and landing on the ground in front of the door with a crack. It launches for them immediately, and Thomas has to dive to the ground to avoid it. He scrambles to his feet quickly, sprinting toward the door. There’s a scream behind him, and a sickening crunch follows it, but Thomas doesn’t turn to see who it was. He keeps running.

Minho’s still in the front of the group, and he’s only about ten meters from the door when the second griever appears from the other end of the passageway. It goes straight for Minho, who has to dodge to the left to avoid being crushed by the griever’s massive body.

Thomas hears Newt’s scream of _Minho_ from behind him, and he moves his legs faster, feeling the terrible strain on his body as he sprints to his friend. But, instead of continuing to go after Minho, the griever whirls around, spiked tail in the air, striking down on one of the boys behind it.

_They’re guarding the door_ , Thomas realizes, horrified by the sight. He looks away as the griever throws the dead boy’s body to the ground.

He doesn’t stop running, though, and neither to the boys around him. They group together, slicing at the griever’s soft flesh as Thomas runs to Minho’s side.

“The door, Greenie!” Minho shouts as Thomas helps him to his feet. He spins around, seeing the door completely clear of threats as the boys fight off the griever. Thomas shares a look with Minho, and they run for it. Thomas looks over his shoulder to the right, looking for Newt and Chuck. He spots them quite a ways away, Newt, Frypan, and another glader trying to fight off the first griever as Theresa and Chuck sprint for the door. Thomas sees the boy fighting with Newt and Frypan trip up next to the griever, and the monster takes quick advantage, swiping the boy into the wall with a crack of its tail.

Thomas veers off course, running for Newt and Frypan. He passes Teresa and Chuck, and hopes quietly to himself that they will make it to the doors. Newt and Frypan seem to quickly figure out that they can’t fight the creature off with just the two of them, and are hightailing towards Thomas, but Thomas can see that the creature is faster, and is gaining ground on them.

Thinking quickly, Thomas raises his arm and screams, _Duck!_ as he throws his sickle as hard as he can toward the griever. Newt and Frypan obey, diving to the side as the sickle whizzes past them, lodging itself deep into the griever’s torso. It falters for a second, stopping in its tract while it wobbles on its legs. It gives Thomas more than enough time to get to Frypan and Newt, making sure they’re okay before running back towards the others, not looking back to see if the griever behind them is following.

The scene in front of them is chaotic. The group of gladers battling the second griever has dwindled down to a mere five, and Minho has jumped in to join the fight. Teresa and Chuck are at the door, punching in the code. Without a weapon, Thomas runs to them, knowing he’ll be useless in the fight against the griever. Newt follows him, while Frypan sprints past to go to fight the griever, his knife clanging against the creature’s metal limb.

Just as Thomas reaches the door, a loud rumble is heard throughout the passageway. The walls surrounding the door, and even the door itself, are crumbling away, creating a hole in the wall in front of them that leads to…

“Another door?” Chuck exclaims, face frantic as he looks at Thomas. Thomas walks forward, scanning the door for any clues about how to open it. It’s an exact replica to the door before it, except this one has room for an eight digit code.

“Eight numbers, eight numbers…” Thomas mutters, closing his eyes as he tries to think.

“It has to have something to do with you,” Teresa says, “the door appeared when you got here, it must be a significant number you should know.”

Thomas looks at her, shaking his head slowly as he tries to wrack his brain for any numbers he would know. “I can’t think of anything.”

“What’s specific to you, Tommy?” Newt jumps in. “Were there any memories with numbers or something else?”

_The maze resets itself every eight days._

“I’m a runner!” Thomas shouts, wide-eyed. The three of them look at him like he's lost his mind, confused at the outburst. “I’m a runner, and the maze resets itself every eight days-.”

“And there are eight cycles of the maze,” Newt finishes for him.

Thomas pushes past them, trying to find Minho in the mess of gladers fighting the griever. He’s on the other side of the creature, beating into it with his knife. “Minho!” Thomas screams, but the boy can’t hear him, too busy dodging out of the way of the griever.

“I don’t know the code,” Thomas realizes as he watches Minho fight, dread creeping up his spine. “I don’t know it, I don’t-.”

“Thomas!”

He whirls around at the sound of Teresa’s voice, watching as Newt punches a seemingly random order of numbers into the door. They wait for a second after he’s done, nothing happening, until the door clicks softly and swings open. Newt ushers Teresa and Chuck through immediately, turning back to Thomas and gesturing to the open door.

“I’m not leaving without the rest of them,” Thomas says quietly.

Newt nods. “Me neither.” He gives Thomas a sad smile before he rushes towards the group of gladers that are left.

Thomas turns, scouring the ground for a weapon he could use. The dead body of Zart catches Thomas’ eye, blue eyes wide and frightened as he stares up at Thomas from the ground. Thomas bends down a grabs the butcher knife from beside Zart’s body, reaching out a hand to close his eyes before he stands again, charging into the fight.

Newt has obviously told a couple of the boys that the door is open, because they are escaping toward the exit when they have an opening. It’s only him, Minho, Newt, Winston, and two other boys left fighting the griever.

“We all go at once,” Minho yells from beside Thomas, “when we have the best chance, I’ll call it!”

It’s then that Thomas hears it, a clicking sound coming from behind him. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where it’s coming from, but Thomas still spares a glance over his shoulder to look at the advancing griever from the other end of the passageway.

Minho obviously sees it too, as he says, “On second thought, we’re going right now! Run!”

They take off, running for their lives towards the door. Thomas hears another scream from someone near him, and he has one last guilty thought that he would give anything for Newt and Minho to make it out of this with him before he leaps into the doorway.

They pile in, and Thomas only sees a small glimpse of the grievers leaping at them before they slam the door closed, collapsing to the floor when they’re finally free of the danger.

Thomas tries to catch his breath, not realizing how winded he was from the fight. He sees Winston vomiting beside him, and he puts a comforting hand on the boy’s back.

When he feels like he can finally breathe without danger of collapse, Thomas stands, turning to face the rest of the gladers. A weight is lifted off of his chest when he recognizes Newt’s blonde hair and when he makes eye contact with Minho. Teresa, Chuck, Frypan, and a boy Thomas doesn’t know are standing at the opposite end of the room. Counting them, Minho, Newt, Winston, another boy Thomas doesn’t recognize, and himself, there are nine of them in total. Nine that survived after seventeen total left the glade. Thomas feels his stomach heave, and he turns away, bending over and trying not to dry heave onto the floor.

“Hey, Greenie,” Minho gasps out from the ground a few feet away. “Still have those water bottles Chuck packed?”

“Yeah,” Thomas says, grateful for the distraction. He slips the backpack off of his shoulders and tosses it toward Minho’s general direction. While the others are distracted, Thomas gives himself a shake, trying to wipe the sight of Zart’s dead eyes staring up at him from his memory.

When Thomas turns back around, he notices Teresa watching him as the others guzzle down water. Their eyes meet, and she gives Thomas a small, comforting smile. It shocks Thomas; the way the expression lights up Teresa’s face. Thomas doesn’t think he’s ever seen her smile.

“Have either of you shanks found an exit to this room yet?” Minho says pointedly, looking between the two of them, his eyebrows furrowed. Thomas gives him a sheepish look before scanning the room they’re in. It’s large, as big as the dining area in the Homestead had been, walls, floor, and ceiling coated with the same colour of grey paint. There are big, circular lights hanging from the ceiling, lighting up the room almost to the point where it hurts for Thomas to have his eyes open.

Despite the size of the room, it appears to be completely empty; the only distinguishing feature being a small metal door on the wall across from Thomas. He starts for it cautiously, expecting some sort of trap along his way and feeling the weight of the gladers’ eyes on his back as he moves. Surprisingly, the door swings open easily, hitting the wall on the other side with a thud.

Thomas shoots a bewildered look over his shoulder, raising his knife in one hand as he creeps past the doorway. He hears shuffling and quiet footsteps behind him and knows that his friends are following.

The door leads to a nondescript-looking hallway, as plain and grey as the room before. But the sight triggers something in Thomas’ head.

“I remember this place,” he says, and just saying the words out loud, solidifying their legitimacy, makes Thomas’ heart pick up speed.

“I do too,” Teresa says, somewhere to his left, and Thomas has to force himself to keep his eyes forward and not look for her. If the others remember anything themselves they don’t say, and they continue through the silent hallway at an anxiously slow pace.

They pass many locked metal doors, some without any discernible traits, but most have labels on the front. Words like: _A25: Sleeping Accommodation, Lab Room C6, Group A: Common Area,_ and the list goes on, spanning what feels like miles of memories that Thomas just can’t grasp.

After a long while of checking every door they pass and finding it locked, Thomas is almost ready to call it quits, the exhaustion in the room palpable. Everyone in their group is obviously scared and stressed out of their minds, and that’s not mentioning the trauma they went through to leave the maze. Thomas knows the only reason they continue on is because of the adrenaline still pumping through their blood, an undeniable desperate hope that they are finally free of the death and violence they have been apart of for so long. So they continue on, because every single one of them would do anything to finally be at peace and find some answers, and because Thomas can’t stomach the thought of his friends’ faces if they had to turn back now.

Eventually, after what feels like hours of walking, they come upon a door that’s labelled: _Group A: Control Room._ The door is cracked open slightly, like someone had forgotten to close it behind them when they left. Thomas feels a strange mix of excitement and nervousness well up inside of him, and he glances at Minho for guidance on what they should do.

The other boy lifts the knife over his head, gesturing for everyone to have their own up and ready to fight. Minho slips behind the door, gripping the handle and counting down silently with his other hand. The door flies open and they burst in, ready for any danger that might surprise them.

Except...there is no danger awaiting. Instead, they find a room full of computers and other electric equipment that Thomas can’t recognize, all lit up and still buzzing with power. There’s a large blank screen that takes up most of the wall across from them, and Thomas can see what looks like the main computer it’s connected to in the center of the room. The overhead lights are dim, so Thomas doesn’t notice the bodies until he takes a couple more steps into the room.

“Oh god,” Chuck says from beside Thomas, voice full of horror. Thomas throws an arm around the boy, wishing he could shield him from the sight in front of them. There are at least twenty, if not more, bodies strewn on the floor. They all look to be some sort of researchers, their white lab coats splattered with blood.

“What happened to them?” Newt whispers, slowly walking forward, almost like he’s in a trance. His movement toward the bodies must trigger some sort of sensor in the room, because there’s a sudden clicking sound, and the large screen blinks on.

A woman appears, looking solemnly at them. She looks to be middle-aged and pristinely dressed, her white button-up shirt clean pressed and her hair in a tight blonde bun on the top of her head.

“Hello, subjects of Group A,” she says, lips pursed, “and congratulations on the completion of the Maze Trails. Here at WICKED, we value your contribution to our cause, and hope that the experience has granted you many tools for your continued lives, no matter how long they may be.

“We are WICKED, the World in Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department. In the maze, you lived in a pleasant home for up to three years. In our world, however, we do not have that pleasure.

“The sun has scorched the Earth, and, because of this, a significant amount of life on our planet has been eradicated. There is a known virus called the Flare that has infected our world, and those that were left alive after the sun flares were quickly taken by this virus. There is little hope for humanity left, except, of course, for you.

“You are our small hope for our future. You are a children of a new generation, and some of you are born immune to the Flare. The Maze Trials is a experiment conducted by WICKED and its members to bring a cure into this world.

“Unfortunately, as you can see by the room around you, we are not here to offer our congratulations in person. That is because, though we are an organization focused on saving the Earth, there are some that disagree with our process. Because we are gone, you must continue on our research, and bring a cure to humanity yourselves. We are putting our faith in you, our generation of the future, to create a habitable planet once again.

“We ask you, as you continue in your journey through this process, that you remember us and what we stood for. WICKED is good.”

The screen cuts to black, and Thomas is left staring, stunned, at the blank screen. The explanation helps fill in the gaps for him quite a bit, but it also leaves more questions than answers. _Who wanted to kill these people? How many of them are immune to this virus?_ Who _is immune to the virus? Why would a group that is trying to create a cure send their test subjects into a place where the majority of them would die? Why the need for violence or death at all?_

Thomas’ head is spinning. He turns to the rest of the group and sees a mix of horror and anger on their faces. Minho turns, picks up a chair and hurls it into a wall. Thomas feels Chuck flinch from under Thomas’ arm, and he lets the boy go to step toward Minho, hands outstretched placatingly. He has rage in his eyes, but he takes a breath once he sees Thomas.

“They really think that _that’s_ enough of an explanation after three years of the _maze_?” Minho says, and Thomas doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t know, really, what these boys have gone through before he arrived. He doesn’t know how it feels to watch his friends die, one after the other, and feel the anger at the people who caused it.

“Is this all that’s left?” Newt asks softly. Thomas and Minho turn back to the blonde. He’s kneeling by one of the bodies, hand hovering over its chest like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Is this all we’re ever gonna’ know about why we’re here?”

“No,” Thomas says, as one of the boys that Thomas doesn’t know kneels beside Newt, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to get out of this place. We’re going to find answers.” Newt glances up at him and Thomas gives him a small smile. “And we’re going to find a way. We always do.

The door swings open suddenly. A figure appears in the entrance of the room, stepping in and slamming the door shut behind him. Thomas can’t see his face clearly until he step further into the room, a shocked silence rippling through the group. 

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere.”

Thomas instinctively takes a step back when Gally looks at him, the boy’s eyes wide and his expression crazed. His clothes are tattered, like he had to fight his way to get there, and Thomas wonders if he had to go through the Grievers. In his right hand, which is slowly being raised to point at Thomas, Gally holds a small pistol. The sight makes a bolt of fear shoot through Thomas, and he swallows past the lump in his throat.

“Gally?” Minho exclaims, and Thomas feels himself instinctively step closer to Minho when Gally’s murderous gaze focuses on the other boy.

“You haven’t seen it,” Gally snarls, bearing his teeth, “you don’t know what it’s really like out there. How horrible it really is.”

“Anything is better than being hunted down and killed by grievers,” Newt says, though there’s a shake to his voice.

“You don’t know!” Gally whirls on the blonde, though the gun stays pointed at Thomas. “You don’t know what it does to you! What it will do to you!”

“What are you talking about, Gally?” Thomas asks, trying to distract the boy by talking so he can find a way to disarm him.

Gally shoots a wide-eyed look at Thomas. “The Flare,” he spits, “the Flare will kill everyone you love, or it will kill you, if you’re one of the lucky ones.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” Minho says, jaw clenched.

Gally shakes his head frantically. “No, you can’t leave! You can’t, you can’t. You can’t!” His eyes widen a fraction. “I won’t let you.”

Everything happens all at once. Gally pulls the trigger, and the almost deafening noise of a shot fired rings out in the room. Thomas is jostled by Chuck, the boy flinching away from the sound. Minho launches his knife into the air, striking Gally dead in the shoulder, and the boy drops instantly, blood soaking into his shirt.

The commotion stops, and there’s a breath of silent air. Until there isn’t, and Chuck is dropping to the floor, a patch of dark blood blooming from his chest.

Thomas can’t think, can’t breathe, arms reaching out instinctively to catch Chuck and cradle him to his own chest. He falls to his knees with Chuck still in his arms, heart thumping erratically in Thomas’ chest as he applies pressure to Chuck’s would with a shaking hand. Someone cries out behind Thomas, but he can barely hear it, blood rushing passed his ears.

“Thomas…” Chuck whispers. His skin is pale and his chest is heaving, blood pooling around Thomas’ hand.

“No, no,” Thomas shushes him, fighting through the rock-sized lump in his throat, “you’ll be fine, Chuck, we’ll get you fixed up and you’ll be fine.”

“Thomas,” Chuck tries again, breath shallow and slow, “if you meet my parents, tell them I wish I could have met them.”

“No,” Thomas gasps out, tears spilling over onto his cheeks, “you’re going to tell them yourself, Chuck.”

Chuck shakes his head, coughing hoarsely until scarlet blood paints his lips. “Please, Thomas,” he pleads, and Thomas feels like something has crawled into his chest and is ripping him open from the inside out. He nods.

Chuck smiles then, but he’s not looking at Thomas. He’s staring up at the ceiling, a small lift to the corners of his mouth,

and then he stops breathing.

Thomas raises his blood-coated hand to Chuck’s face, closing the boy’s eyes with his fingertips. A sob bubbles up in Thomas’ chest, and he finally lets it out, crumbling over Chuck’s body with a pained scream.

Teresa kneels beside him, stroking a hand through Chuck’s curly hair. She’s crying, silent tears slipping down her cheeks as she gazes at the boy. Newt joins them, slipping to his knees in front of Thomas. Slowly, the rest of the gladers circle around Chuck’s body, clinging to each other for comfort as they grieve.

But Thomas doesn’t accept any comfort. He doesn’t deserve any, he thinks as he strokes Chuck’s cheek with his knuckles, not after this.

The next actions happen to Thomas as if he’s in a trance, like they’re not truly real. A set of doors across from them that Thomas hadn’t even noticed existed suddenly burst open, bright light streaming in. People dressed in all black and armed with guns enter the room, and, before Thomas can think about reacting, they’re disarming the gladers and snatching each of them away.

Thomas struggles briefly, fighting the men pulling him away from Chuck’s body. But they wrench his hands away, dragging Thomas from the room, Chuck’s blood still dripping from Thomas’ fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand that's the end of this fic! I will post a epilogue at the same time as the first chapter of the next fic, which may take a little while to get out. I'm going on a trip for two weeks without my computer so I won't be able to write until I get back, and I'd like to get a few chapters back-stocked so I can start posting regularly again.
> 
> I'd like to say (tentatively) that I'll be back to posting in about a month, so hopefully that isn't too long for you guys to wait for me.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're here!! it's finally the epilogue! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic and this tiny chapter of an ending I have for you, and I hope you enjoy the next one just as much. :)

“It’s been done, Ms. Page,” the young assistant says, bowing her head slightly when Ava turns to look at her. Ava thinks she has potential, the assistant; eager to please and would do anything to get ahead. She reminds Ava of herself.

“Thank you,” Ava says as a dismissal, turning back toward the group of people in front of her. They’re sitting around a table, Ava placed at the head as she stares down at the others.

“Have the Maze Trials been completed, Ms. Page?” One of the men at the table asks, his face brimming with eagerness.

“Yes, they have been. The survivors are now being transported to our secondary location as we speak.”

“And Thomas?” The same man asks.

“Thomas is with them,” Ava confirms, “and we will start the blood samples as soon as their health is back up to standard.”

“We cannot start right away?” A woman questions, leaning forward in her chair. “What harm will it do to test the boy as soon as we can?”

There’s a murmur in the room, and Ava can tell the others agree with the woman’s argument. But they are just investors, and Ava doesn’t have time for their opinions. Especially when it could ruin everything Ava has worked for for the past three years.

“No,” she responds sharply, gaining the attention of the table. “We let them rest, we feed them and let them bathe until they are comfortable and healthy. There is no changing it.”

“They will be drained, regardless if they are comfortable or not. Why is that important?” Another voice asks, and Ava can feel a sharp headache making its way behind her eyes.

“Some of the survivors have been in the Maze for three years. They have lost many friends throughout that process, and have now lost even more during the Final Step. They deserve some peace before the procedure, do they not?” The _and they’re children_ is left unsaid.

The room silences, the pushy woman from before tucking her head down sheepishly. Ava sighs, brushing her hands over the front of her shirt before rising and stepping away from the table.

“I expect, now that you know our experiment was a success, you will continue your funding towards WICKED and towards a cure for our world,” Ava says as a closing. She turns and starts walking toward the exit.

“But, how do you know that the test worked?” The first man asks suddenly, standing. Ava turns back to face him. “What if Subject A2’s blood isn’t at the correct level yet?”

The man has the same concerns Ava had been having since the beginning of the trials, but they were too far gone into this to second-guess themselves now. “These tests were created specifically to increase the potency of the healing properties in each of the survivors’ blood. Subject A2 was always our priority, and we have made sure he has what we need,” Ava says, before walking through the door.

She has a meeting with Janson she wants to take care of, and she knows he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! the first chapter of the next fic in this series is up now, so if you're interested you should go and read it. :) comments and kudos are amazing!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! comments and kudos are lovely.


End file.
